


Strings of Destiny

by KTfromTHEstix



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Banker!Yen, Carpenter!Geralt, Christmas, Devastated!Yen, Drabble Collection, Editor!Yen, F/F, F/M, Farmer!Geralt, Firefighter!Geralt, Fluff, FratBoy!Geralt, Halloween, Lumberjack!Geralt, Meet-Cute, Painter!Yen, ShopOwner!Geralt, Smut, SororitySis!Yen, Thanksgiving, Widower!Geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 96,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KTfromTHEstix/pseuds/KTfromTHEstix
Summary: A little meet cute series featuring our favorite cuties.A successful banker and a skilled carpenter have chemistry that neither can deny. A dance instructor and an ex-Marine find an unlikely common ground. A career farmer and a big city editor meet unexpectedly and a kind gesture forms an immediate bond.An all-star frat boy and a stuck up sorority sister clash until lust seals their fate. A horrible accident brings a young artist and a career fireman together, but the tragedy may just prove a miracle. Two broken souls meet under the worst of circumstances, and cling to each other in a sea of uncertainty and grief.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Past - Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Renfri | Shrike, Vesemir & Tissaia de Vries
Comments: 285
Kudos: 146





	1. Portland, Maine - The Bank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Rated T

Geralt slammed the door of his truck and jogged across the parking garage, checking his watch with a curse. He held a manilla folder of documents carefully in one hand, holding the door open for a sour faced woman with the other as she left the building.

The bank lobby was exquisitely appointed, large slabs of marble at every turn. He looked somewhat out of place in his jeans and warm brown plaid shirt. His brown work boots were clean, and his shirt was buttoned to the collar. His platinum blonde hair made him stand out some, short on the sides and left longer on the top, prone to curl as it was.

He stopped before a row of stainless steel elevator doors, and tipped his head down to read the directory quickly. He stood a head above most of the other male patrons, his broad shoulders and thick arms making him hard to miss. _Seventh floor_.

He walked to the farthest elevator bay and pressed the call button, shoving his work worn hand back into his pocket. People bustled to and fro, many in suits, all wearing frowns it seemed. He felt a wave of nervousness, wondering if he should have dug out the suit from his sister’s wedding. Nah, he thought, bankers were about the numbers. He could wear a thousand dollar tuxedo, but if they didn’t like his financials, they wouldn’t grant him the money.

The door slid open and he entered the empty car, glad for some peace before he groveled on his hands and knees.

“Hold! Hold it please!”

He stuck his hand between the doors just before they closed. A young woman joined him in the car, with a thankful nod, catching her breath. She leaned in front of him to select her floor, and realized he had already pressed the button she desired.

She gave him an awkward little smile and straightened, fussing with her blouse. When she moved back, he got a whiff of her perfume and his knees felt weak. She smelled of tart berries and some sweet floral smell. The combination was so appealing that he had to focus on not shutting his eyes and hauling in more of her scent.

She was dressed professionally, a white silk blouse that clung to her curves attractively but gave nothing inappropriate away. Her skirt reached the middle of her thigh, the black material hung in soft waves that made him yearn to reach out and touch the hem. She wore black heels, the extra three or four inches putting the top of her head at his chin. Lavender painted toes peeked from the open shoes, matching the fingernails wrapped around the strap of her purse.

Glossy curls dark as midnight hung to the middle of her back, beckoning him to bury his nose against her scalp and see if her hair smelled just as sweet. Sculpted brows led to a perfect little nose, and he had to tear his eyes away when her tongue darted out to wet her lip. _Not mine,_ and that moment was hardly the time to be dealing with an uncomfortable erection. Money. They had it, he wanted it, _look away_ from the beautiful young woman who was probably happily married.

He shifted his feet in his boots imperceptibly and cleared his throat lightly as the car began to climb. She looked up, thinking he meant to speak to her, and he was lost.

Thick, curly lashes revealed a pair of violet irises unlike any he had ever seen. Her lips parted when her eyes met his, but he could not tear his gaze from the amethyst pools staring back at him.

———

Late, late, _goddamnit_ she was late. The hurried flutter of her heels on the concrete floor of the parking garage echoed as she tried to make up time. Her boss would have a field day if she was late, and she had an appointment already first thing that morning. It figured, working directly for an Executive Vice President made her a VP in her own right, but it meant she had to work twice as hard to keep up appearances.

Concrete gave way to buffed marble and she darted for the last elevator, knowing it was used the least. She shouted as the doors closed, and a big hand reached out and saved her from another delay to her morning.

Her fingers floated over the button for her floor, when she realized he was headed there as well. She flashed him an apologetic glance, only to wish she hadn’t looked. Her heels suddenly felt like stilettos and her ankles wavered on whether or not they might support her any longer.

If his polite smile had such an effect on her, what kind of a puddle would she be if he grinned at her hungrily. What in the hell was wrong with her? She had seen attractive men before, she lived in a city full of them for God’s sake. Maybe it was the small elevator car that made him seem so tall and muscular.

That was exactly it. It was the lighting that pulled his shirt taunt over his biceps, and cast shadows over the harsh ridge of his jaw and the prominent cheekbones above. Fluorescence was the cause of the curl in his hair and the few distinguished silver strands at his temple.

What it didn’t explain, however, was the way he smelled so God damn _good._ She could swear he smelled of supple leather, but he carried no bag. Trees, wood, no - mahogany. Rich, decadent mahogany filled her nostrils and her pulse began to pound between her legs.

She looked away. What fresh hell was this? She was an executive, an educated woman, why the _frick_ did she want to climb this poor man like the giant tree he was? She needed to cut back on the espresso, it was beginning to screw with her mind. There was absolutely no chance he was single, none.

The elevator moved and she steeled herself, her stomach already doing uncalled for flops in her belly. He made to say something and she looked up. Her jaw dropped when she met the brightest golden eyes she had ever seen. She could scarce look away, finding the same fascination in his returning stare.

Her fingers twitched and her hand lifted of it’s own validity, bound and determined to see if he was real or a figment of her imagination.

His phone vibrated in the front pocket of his pants and the spell was broken. Their eyes bolted apart and her small hand dropped. Her gaze fell to his pocket, and she couldn’t stop her quick intake of breath at the ridge of his jeans. Her traitorous nipples peaked under her thin bralette, and his eyes widened when he looked over the phone at her and saw them clear as day, straining against the smooth fabric of her blouse.

She pursed her lips and refused to blush. It was his own damn fault she was having a hot flash, who wore such divinely tight jeans anyway? His phone was older, not the newest model by far, and covered in a thick case that looked indestructible. Big hands and thick fingers made quick work of his response, and she clenched her thighs together, trying not to imagine them inside her.

The elevator dinged and she raced forward, making a beeline straight for her office. She had to get her shit together before she got fired or sued for being unable to resist some stranger in the elevator. She crossed the threshold of the comfortably sized room and tossed her bag in the chair by the door.

She pulled it shut behind her and leaning back into it, letting the cool wood sooth her overheated skin through her blouse.

———

Yennefer settled in her office, and took one of the cold water bottles from the mini fridge in the corner. The view from her windows was hard earned, and she pulled herself from it to dial her secretary.

“Give me five minutes and send in my eight am Triss, thanks.”

She held the bottle to the tops of her breasts, the cool condensation soothing her heated skin. Suddenly the handle turned and her door opened wide open, the man from the elevator standing there with his folder, a surprised look on his face as a particularly vengeful water droplet sailed down the pale skin between her breasts.

She hated her secretary. She swore she could get more work done, more accurately, if she fired the bitch. What had she not understood about _five minutes_.

She looked down at her Blackberry. “Come in, Mr. … Rivia.” She plastered a professional smile on her face as though her panties weren’t still damp from inhaling the air around him. The entire exchange had been ludicrous, and yet something told her that she would still be picturing him long after his appointment was through.

———

Of course, his goddamn luck. The woman responsible for deciding if he got the loan was the very same one who caught him sporting a hard on for her like he was a teenager. When he opened the door and realized she was one in the same, he almost turned around and left, gave up. Something pulled him to her, told him he would be a fool to leave, and it was more than his ill-mannered cock.

He nodded at her invitation, and reached out to shake her hand. Their touch was electric, her skin soft and warm, and her grip small but firm in his hand. “Geralt.” He offered.

“Yennefer. Please, make yourself at home.” She gestured to the pair of chairs in front of her desk and he sat, his long legs jutting his knees out almost comically.

“May I see the documents you brought please?” Her smile was genuine, and he wondered if they were past the awkwardness of the elevator and his entrance. He handed her the folder and she leafed through his paperwork quickly and efficiently. She turned her chair to input some of his information into her computer, and he let his gaze roam her office.

Diplomas and framed certificates lined the far wall, and photo frames perched on the upper shelf by her desk. He recognized her in only a few of the photos, most must have been members of her family. He flitted from one to the next, and realized she wore a formal dress in each one, weddings.

“Six.” She offered with a slight smile, not looking up from the note she wrote on his pay stub. “I’ve been a bridesmaid six times.” Her pen sailed across the paper with the confidence of a woman who made important decisions for people every day.

“You must have a lot of friends.” He commented, immediately regretting it. He sounded like an ass. She paused then, and looked up from her task.

“Not really any longer.” She clarified. “Of course we’re still friends, but once they sail down the aisle - husbands, homes and babies tend to trump old friends in the ranking of things.”

Again he spoke without thinking. “That sounds like bullshit. For men it’s the opposite. It’s the husbands wanting time away from the wives, homes, and babies that want to drag old friends out and relive their glory years.” He cursed himself and waited for her bitter response. Go ahead and act the misogynist and see if you get your loan _dumbass,_ he thought.

Instead of becoming offended, she laughed. “I don’t blame them. Husband jail sounds like a hefty sentence. Have you ever been?”

He was surprised, she had his credit report, she could have dug into his past herself. “Not me, never found the right cell mate.” He smiled. “No wife, oversized home or babies to pay for, that's why I’m here.”

“Your request is for a personal loan and you don’t need to tell me, but now I’m intrigued. Ninety-thousand?”

“A boat. A sailboat actually, the kind you can sail the world on, live on it.” He motioned to her calendar, “Something that’ll take me places like that.”

Her eyes lit up and she looked at her calendar in a new light. The bluffs of the Irish coast to the Caribbean islands, New Zeland to Ecuador - the images made his heart race just thinking of the ocean breeze in his hair.

“Wow, that’s amazing. Let’s see about getting you this boat.” She turned and entered some more figures into her program. She turned back, “You _have_ seen Castaway, correct?”

“I’m not one for volleyball, no worries.”

———

Somehow she could picture him sailing the world easily. He appeared just a regular guy, but there was something more underneath the casual way he carried himself.

She laughed again. “I doubt Tom Hanks is anymore either. It says here you’re a carpenter?” God, that explained the irresistibly manly scent of wood and leather that seemed to fill her office.

“Yes, carpentry, drywall, contracting - I do it all.”

She nodded, banishing the mental image of him with a tool belt and no shirt. She was as thirsty as her boss’s secretary, a fifty-something divorcee who had a laminated photo of Magic Mike himself in her top drawer. She would have to make sure she walked Geralt out to the far door to avoid her embarrassing fawning. Yennefer was doing enough fawning for the both of them.

“You must be very talented with your hands.” She snapped her mouth shut. Oh, what had she done?

To her relief, a slow smirk spread across his handsome face. “Feel free to call any of my references.” He nodded to the folder.

She nodded quickly and moved to the next screen she needed to fill out. “Your credit, what little you have open, is in impeccable shape.” She commented.

He nodded. “I don’t like to borrow what I don’t have. Don’t like to feel so trapped.”

“Except for today.”

He smiled, “Except for today.”

She eyed the Keurig in the far corner of the room. “I’m sorry, I’ve been so rude. Can I get you something to drink while the program runs? Coffee?”

“Thank you, but no, I’m nervous enough.”

She wasn’t the only one blurting things out like she didn’t know how to control herself. “Don’t be nervous, I’m only scary on the outside.” She smiled.

“Scary isn’t the word I’d use.” He seemed confident about that one. God, please let him go for it, she thought.

The bar loaded across her screen slowly. She crossed her fingers under her leg. “What would you use?” She met his gaze, and again, it was like it had been in the elevator. Electric. Magnetic. Irresistible.

“Intimidating. Confident. Intelligent. Gorgeous. Intriguing. Not wearing a ring.”

Her computer beeped loudly and she broke away, her breath short in her chest. _Fail._ He wasn’t approved. His equity was in himself. His business, his skill. _He,_ was his strongest asset for collateral, and the bank didn’t want to risk an unsecured loan on something so unpredictable as a man.

She did this all the time, turned families down, dashed hopes and dreams. It was business, math…a simple algorithm. He was something more.

“I’m - I’m so sorry. The bank feels you lack the fixed assets to provide sufficient collateral for such a sum.”

She turned back to him, and he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Alright. I understand.” He cleared his throat. “About that ring. You didn’t just leave it on the sink this morning did you?” He was all in.

“You’ve seen the evidence, never once has my dress been white.” She held her breath.

“Would you like to go to dinner tonight with a bad risk?”

“I would love to.”

———

She came around the desk and walked him to her door, his folder and documents back in his hand. Now she knew that it was hard work that made his handshake so firm, his skin rough in comparison to hers. It didn’t deter her from wondering what they would feel like on other parts of her body, it actually made her curiosity worse.

Said hand gripped the handle, then released it. He turned back to her and whispered, “Please don’t sue me.”

Before she realized what he meant, his head bent and his lips found her surprised ones. She startled for a moment before adding her own pressure to the kiss, his lips impossibly soft for a man so capable.

They broke for air and he pulled back to watch her face. He found no hesitation, and a smolder in her eyes just as fierce as his. He covered her mouth again, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back gently. Her palms found the soft cotton of his shirt tentatively, and she could do nothing to stop the sound in her throat at the feel of hard muscle underneath her fingertips.

He pulled her closer at the sound, and the flowing material of her skirt caught on the rough denim of his jeans. The folder crinkled in his grasp when her heels left the carpet, her weight on her toes as she leaned into him and slid her hand up his neck.

She felt the bulge in his jeans against her belly and he froze, parting their lips and opening his eyes again. He stepped back and she immediately felt cold, a shiver running through her.

“So,” he began, “I’ll come back at -

“Five.” She smiled and he nodded.

He straightened the folder and conveniently held it in front of his fly. She walked him past Triss’s desk, their behavior completely professional except for the _just-been-kissed_ blush on her cheeks. The elevator dinged, and he tippled her chin unexpectedly for one last stolen kiss.

“Gotta make sure it’ll last me until five.” He explained, mischief in his expression as he stepped into the car.

The doors closed on his breathtaking smile before she could muster a witty reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Don’t know anything about banks or loans! Also, her computer is so slow, she must have dial up. XD If you don’t know what that is you’re too young to read my fics. Bad reader!
> 
> Loza I did it! I sat and just wrote without distractions, you were right it DOES work! :)
> 
> I’m considering doing an unrelated series of short one shots like this under this title. Time will tell. :D This is NOT going to be like Reaper and You’re Cute. I can stop at one chapter I VOW! :D


	2. Lake Tahoe, Nevada - The Range

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another little meet cute, but slightly less cute. Yennefer finds more than what she came for at the local gun shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut happend. Raise your hand if you're surprised. No hands. That's what I thought XD  
> Rated M.

A black jeep rolled up the country road, dirt trailing up into the air behind it in great swirls. The vehicle pulled to a stop in front of a small home, the parking brake clicking into place to account for the incline. She rolled her window down when the dust settled, waves of dark hair falling over her shoulder as she peered out over the side mirror.

She hadn’t been to her father’s place in years. Even before he died a few years past, she had no interest in showing up on his doorstep again. When her parents divorced, she and her mother moved to California and never looked back. The door of the jeep swung open, and a petite ballet flat crunched into to the dry soil below.

Her mother passed the year before, and the only family she had left was a younger half sister who still lived in their father’s home. She fought a shudder at the thought of being back in that town, the place where her father’s temper had ruled their lives. She pulled a heavy black duffle from her backseat, shut the door, and peered out over the side of the mountain. The sunset was ethereal, but she failed to appreciate it.

There was a time she thought the view beautiful, and now the only emotion hidden by her metallic sunglasses was disgust. She had no love for this place any longer. Time to get her sister out of harm’s way, and go back _home_ , to her friends and her life.

She stepped up on the narrow porch, the small house tidy but aged. She could hear music coming from the kitchen window, opened wide to entertain the mountain breeze. Yennefer knocked on the door and got no answer. She turned the handle and called out, “Triss?”

“Yenna!” A beautiful redhead ran from the kitchen and launched herself into her sister’s arms.

She overcame the shock of seeing her sister all grown up, and returned her embrace. It had been over five years. “Aren’t you the beauty of the family little one!” She could see now why Triss had had a string of boyfriends, one after the other since she hit puberty. Her exotic red hair was cut in a fashionable bob that framed her petite face and shining green eyes.

She was taller than Yennefer, though most women were, and good lord was she well endowed. Even underneath the old apron she wore, Yennefer could tell her figure had filled out beautifully. “I got ‘em from my mama.” She offered with a smile. Yennefer imagined that just about everyone who met her had taken a moment to appreciate her beauty.

Yennefer knew _she_ was no great beauty. Her body was trim and lithe, and her face cute enough – but it seemed that men lusted after the long legged blonde beauty. She was too short, her hair too dark and her wit too sharp. She was too much to handle, and it left her bitter for the few men who had given up on her.

“I’m so glad you’re here Yenna. I’m in dad’s room, but the spare is all yours.” She offered. “How is the studio? Any new men in your life I need to stalk?”

Yennefer owned a small dance studio located on the first floor of an older home, and she lived above it. She and her mother had renovated it with love until she passed away and left the care of the home and their students to Yennefer. She was the studio’s primary instructor, her own talented youth wasted by an alcoholic father who cared more about whiskey than paying for dance lessons. All that disappointment was behind her now, and she was successful, content.

“No men hun, I don’t have time to put up with that garbage. The studio is good, the little ones are adorable as always, and we have a few of the older girls going to states this season. How are _you_. Have you seen him?”

Triss shook her head to the negative. Her ex boyfriend Lambert had been released on bond, and Yennefer had returned to watch over her until the trial concluded and he was hopefully incarcerated for a long, long time.

“Let me see them little one.” Yennefer asked.

“They’re pretty faded now.” Triss turned and let Yennefer peel up the back of her shirt. Bruises of varying ages faded slowly on her pale skin. Yennefer clenched her jaw. _Never again_.

Triss’s lip trembled and Yennefer pulled her in for a gentle hug. “It’ll all be alright, I promise. I won’t let him near you again.” She pulled away and forced a smile. “Now feed me whatever smells delicious in there, I’ve got an errand to run before it gets too late.

\------

Yennefer debated on getting out of the car. It was dark out, but the sign on the door said the shop was open, and it was lit up inside. She wore a pair of Triss’s boots over her black cargo pants, a loose fitting purple dance top hung low over her sports bra. She meant business, and she hoped the old man who ran the adjoining range was still awake, she could use some practice.

She shoved her ID, credit card, keys and phone into the pockets of her pants, forgoing the hassle of bringing in her bag. She pulled the heavy glass door open, and in a blur a large brown dog danced around her, sniffing intently. Pitt bulls could be intimidating, but she knew better than to judge before deciding the dog’s intent.

“Eh! Place.” A deep voice issued the command from across the small shop, and the dog immediately abandoned her and darted to a camouflage dog bed in the corner of the room.

“Sorry about that, she’s still – “ The man who came from behind the counter stuttered over his words. She had expected the old man who used to own the shop, Veron, Ves – something.

This man wasn’t who she anticipated, nor was he old. Shock white hair was tied in a messy bun behind his head, and she would have thought the look feminine if not for the hard lines of his handsome face. Chiseled, classically handsome features gave way to wide shoulders and a heavily muscled frame. He straightened and put the box he reached for on the counter, and she realized he was extraordinarily tall.

Dark tattoos curled from his pectorals and peeked above the collar of his army green t-shirt. Maybe it was her perspective, but the poor shirt seemed to be hanging on for dear life, contouring to his thick arms and the railroad track of abdominals that led the thin fabric to tuck into a pair of black jeans.

She pulled her glance away before he caught her staring, and he continued. “ –she’s still in training. What can I do for you ma’am?”

 _Ma’am_. He was being polite, but the word made her feel a bit older than her late twenties.

“I’m interested in a handgun, something best for small hands if you have it.” If he was surprised by her request, he knew better than to show it.

“Sure thing.” He left the box and motioned to the far end of the counter. She followed him, and the dog watched her dutifully from her bed. He pointed through the glass and began explaining the different options he might recommend. “This would be for you I assume?”

“Yes. Personal protection.”

He pulled three different models up on the counter and explained the advantages and drawbacks of each patiently. She chose the one he recommended, a Walther PPK with low kickback and an extra external safety. “It’s compact, but it’ll get the job done. James Bond carries one.” He added with a smile.

He took the barrel off and showed her how to clean it, and when he looked up from his task their eyes met and her heart stopped. Brilliant gold saw through her get-it-done attitude, and right down into the depths of her soul. She rested her hand on the glass to ground herself, and pulled in a fresh breath.

“How did you come to own this place? I expected the prior owner.” She put on a polite smile and pretended her pulse wasn’t racing. He wouldn’t sell her the gun if he thought she was nuts.

“It was my uncle’s. He sold it to me after my last tour.” He supplied.

“Thank you for your service.” He nodded his acknowledgement. He ran her ID and rang up her purchase.

“How come you’ve come all the way out here from California to shop? Surfers don’t know their firearms?”

She gave him a half smile. “I grew up here, just in town to handle a little business.” He raised his eyebrow incredulously and she realized she sounded like a woman on a rampage. “Nothing newsworthy, just staying with my sister.” He sensed her defensiveness and backed off.

He went to bag up the box of ammunition and she asked, “Is the adjoining range still open? I know it’s late but I’d love a few minutes to practice.”

“I was going to recommend it. Would you like some pointers or do you want the place to yourself?” She would take all the advice she could get. He would learn fast enough that she’d never fired a gun in her life. He turned to the dog, “Mags.” She hopped from the bed and came to heel by his leg and received her treat.

He smirked. “The only woman that’ll listen to a word I say.” He joked. “She’ll let us know if anybody else comes by.”

\------

He almost dropped the box of wadding and cleaning rods he had just dug out from underneath the counter. His clientele was ninety-five percent men, primarily farmers, vets, and old men who’s firearm collections were as old as they were.

Not only did it surprise him to have a woman come in just before he was set to close, but a devastatingly beautiful one at that. He was in his mid-thirties, he had seen some gorgeous woman, but none had made him stutter like a fool and forget his own damn name.

She had some balls for such a little thing, walking into his shop alone after dark. Who knew what other type of patrons he may have had at that hour. She listened to what he had to say carefully, and made a smart, decisive choice. He could see directly down her shirt as they bent over the counter, and the curve of her behind in her black pants taunted him as they spoke. She must have dabbed her perfume under her jaw, because the light scent of berries tempted him every time he leaned close.

She carried herself confidently, the flair of her hip gentle like the curls in her obsidian black hair. Her tresses spilled down her graceful neck until she grew exasperated by them and wove a messy bun in a split second. Her skin was pale and flawless, her lips a subtle mauve, eclipsed only by the brilliant hue of her eyes. He had to shake his head clear more than once, finding himself slipping into their deep violet depths.

She was exquisite, and he had no clue why the hell she had washed up in his old shop. The more they spoke, he picked up little cues that her purchase might be in response to a threat she already knew. He couldn’t explain why he felt a surge of protectiveness toward this petite stranger, but if someone had threatened to hurt her, he’d like to get in on that retaliation.

He hadn’t had time for a serious relationship since his high school girlfriend cheated on him. He’d shipped out and made a name for himself in the Army, no longer needing the validation of a woman to feel complete. This one though, he wouldn’t mind it if she thought he was a decent guy.

“Mags, like Maggie?” She asked, jerking him from his thoughts. He nodded, giving her his name as well, hers coming from her ID. “She’s a rescue, and normally I train for service dogs, but she’s all mine this little one.” If seventy pounds was a little one. The dog seemed to know they spoke of her and she preened.

Yennefer reached to pet her and stopped, “May I?” He smiled and itched under her jowls while Yennefer scratched her ears. The thud of her happy tail echoed in the quiet room.

He guided her through the back door in the shop and down a shadowy corridor to the range entrance. He showed her range etiquette and safety before perching a pair of shooting earmuffs on her ears carefully. He donned a pair and explained how they blocked the sound of the blasts, but allowed the low frequency sounds of their voices.

He watched her load the magazine and hold the pistol, advising on her grip and stance. She fired her first and he reminded her to keep her thumb tucked, else the slide will pinch. When his fingers brushed over hers, sparks ran up his arm at the contact.

They worked through the rest of her clip, the determined purse of her lips and the excitement in her eyes pulling at something in his gut. When her shots began to cluster in the center of the target she got a bit overconfident and lost her form. He took her waist with both hands gently and centered her shoulders when she froze.

 _Fucking hell_. He’d gone too far, taken advantage. He never should have brought her back there while no one else was around. He’d scared her.

\------

The only thing soft about him was his patience with her and his lips. At least, they looked soft and supple, and she had to concentrate not to reach out and touch them when he leaned near.

He was so knowledgeable, and kind to give her such detailed advice and assistance. She should have been weary of being alone with him, but she was the one with the gun. It should have bothered her that she was being reckless, but for some reason she didn’t give a shit.

She couldn’t stop looking at him, listening to his deep baritone. It must be the fact that it had been so long since she was with a man, but every time she took a deep breath, the scent of him sent a rush of anticipation between her legs. He smelled clean, like the woods and whatever antiperspirant he was wearing. She highly doubted a man like him dallied with cologne.

She had no idea she was so sexually repressed. What other excuse did she have for the lascivious thoughts and images that flashed under her lashes when she took aim. His hands dwarfed hers when he helped her adjust her grip, and she had little question it was not the only large part of him she would like to spend an evening with. Or two. Maybe a week.

She learned the weapon quickly with his help, and felt a surge of empowerment as her bullets ripped through the target outline’s heart. Warm hands covered her waist and she stopped, helpless against the fantasy of his hands sliding up her sides to her breasts. The moment he stepped close to her, they felt heavy under his gaze, aching for his attention.

She was sick, perverted. The man could have a wife and kids, and all she could think about was wrapping her thighs around his hips and tangling her hands in his hair while he devoured her mouth.

“I’m sorry.” She apologized, her face flaming with embarrassment. She was there for her sister, not a booty call with the hot as fuck gun dealer down the street.

He released her immediately and backed up. God, she had screwed up. He was kind to her, and she had ruined it. She tramped down the shame that threatened to drown her and pulled the magazine from the pistol. “Thank you for your help.” She offered.

He nodded. “Come back and utilize the range whenever you want to. If I’m here, it’s open.”

\------

She came back every day for a week. She had dinner with Triss and then drove down to see him…er, practice, and they fell into an easy routine. She forgave herself for losing her cool, and he never brought it up. They chatted amiably when she came through the store, and it was evident that Maggie had taken a liking to her.

He had few customers at night, and it didn’t bother her in the least to have him all to herself. He told her about the cabin he bought up the mountain, and more than a few war stories from his time abroad. She told him about the loss of her mother, and the wonderful dancers at her studio. They enjoyed each other’s company, and it was a lovely escape from the sense of dread that she felt at her father’s house.

Lambert’s trial began on a Friday, and she was particularly vicious with the poor, paper target at the end of her lane. She came back in the shop slightly out of breath, and asked for another box of bullets. He had a rifle completely stripped out and was polishing each piece carefully.

He set the cloth down and gave her the bullets. “Yennefer, I think we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well, so I’m going to come out and ask. Is someone after you? Are you in danger?”

“No, it’s my younger sister, Triss.” It was thoughtful of him to worry for her. “She was involved with a physically abusive man and their relationship didn’t end well. I’m staying with her until he’s behind bars. A friend of hers comes to visit after dinner, and I come here.”

“Would he come after her? Truly?” He would have the facts.

“Without her testimony, he’d skip out on ten to twenty.”

His eyes widened, understanding her worry for Triss’s safety. “Why don’t you bring her down here and we’ll get her familiar with something too. I’ve got a few small ones that’ll suit her in a pinch, until her brave sister can swoop in and save the day.” He smiled and she nodded gratefully.

“Though, I don’t like the idea of that bastard being near her sister either, no matter how brave she is.”

Yennefer walked behind the counter, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She would have found him patronizing and condescending if she didn’t know he was such a genuine person. Her cheek brushed his jaw as she pulled away, “Don’t worry about me, I had a _really_ good teacher.”

A ghost of a smirk flitted across his lips before he took the plunge and covered hers. Her heart sang at the sweet press of him, and she responded with her own gentle pressure. He ended the kiss all too soon, and she leaned up to seal her lips to his, her hand running up the front of his chest to cradle his neck.

She opened at the press of his tongue, and he swooped inside her mouth reverently, unwilling to miss an inch of her sweet taste. His thumb found her jaw and he took over for a few moments, passion and suppressed lust showing itself. He picked her up as though she weighed no more than a feather, and set her on the countertop, his hands running down the back of her legs.

“I’ll break it,” she worried, the glass cool through the thin fabric of her leggings.

He grinned, “No you won’t sweetheart, it’s bulletproof.”

Hands roamed and lips caressed, and she completely forgot that anyone could walk in off the street and see them. His hands slid under her shirt and traveled from her ribs over the mounds of her breasts, her rapid breaths heaving them to the very edge of the black lacy cups. She had taken to wearing the best underwear she had packed, secretly hoping he might lay his eyes on it.

He reached around her back, “Is this-“

“ _Yes,_ ” she gasped, tugging the hem of his shirt from his pants. Her bra sprung loose and he traced his thumbs over her nipples gently before cupping her soft skin in his palms. She moaned into his cheek, unable to hold back her delight at the feel of his big hands at long last.

He pulled away only long enough to help her remove her shirt, and she helped him do the same. Her hand traced over the dark morphs of his tattoos, but he would have to explain their intent to her later. He took a good look at her and swore, “Jesus Christ, you’re so beautiful.” He wasted no time wrapping his hands around her back and bending to take her in his mouth. She busied herself pulling his soft hair loose from it’s bun, and tried to temper her shudders and hums at the clever movements of his tongue over her nipple.

He switched sides and she ran her hand over the plains and valleys of his back, his skin warm and tight over thick muscle tone. He placed final kisses on both of her breasts before moving lower, his tongue darting in her navel.

He peeled her leggings and panties down slowly, and she leaned back on her hands and propped her body up to help him. He gave her an inquisitive look and she smirked, “Dancer.”

Lust reflected in his eyes and she laughed, only to gasp in surprise when his broad tongue found her clit on the first pass. He watched her watch him as he moved lower, lapping at her slick with thorough licks while he ran his hands over her thighs. Her little slippers fell to the floor and he pulled her leggings the rest of the way off, resting her legs on his broad shoulders. 

She writhed and moaned when he began to circle her clit, and she pulled her hand from it's death grip on the edge of the counter to bury it in his hair. His finger found her entrance and she gasped, rolling against his hand to hurry him on. 

Her hair fell from it's tie and cascaded down the front of the display, the glass foggy where her overheated skin rolled and quivered above it. He found a rhythm she liked with his finger and he matched it with his tongue, messy swirls and taps driving her beyond thought. 

"Oh, _oh_ , Geralt!" She shouted for him before her body seized in a roaring climax. She pitched upward off of the counter, her back arched and her jaw slack. Her heels dug into his back and he kept to his motions until she jerked against his touch. He eased his hand back with a few more wet kisses to her inner thigh, and he pulled towel from behind the counter to gently wipe her and his face clean. 

She laid panting, boneless, while he carefully pulled up her panties and rolled on her leggings. He helped her down from the counter and he groaned when her breasts brushed his chest. She brushed a kiss to his jaw and went for his belt. He stilled her hands and brought her knuckles to his lips. 

"Not here, not like this. We'll go on a proper date." He promised.

"We will?"

He smiled over her hand. 

———

Triss walked into the shop with her the next day, and Yennefer refused to blush. They were consenting adults, and she was not embarrassed, she was hungry for more of him. He was cleaning the front windows when they arrived. Another customer walked in behind them, an older man in his seventies.

“So you _do_ have other patrons.” She teased, and he grinned back.

“Not all stone cold foxes like you two girls.” The old man whistled a catcall and Geralt gave him a scolding look.

“You can’t say things like that these days Earl.” He chastised.

“I’ll say what I want son, do ya have my rifle ready?” Geralt produced the rifle he had been working on the night before, when she had so sweetly interrupted him.

Earl settled up his bill and leaned close, thinking she and Triss couldn’t hear him. “Go for the redhead Geralt, they’re a rare bit of fun, and those boobies are a gift from above.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “ _Goodbye_ Earl.” He shot Yennefer an apologetic look and the man shuffled his way out with a big wink for her sister.

Yennefer did her best not to dwell on the old man’s comment while Geralt helped Triss with the safe operation of a pistol just smaller than the one she carried in her purse. Triss was a bombshell, she had to expect any man to think what the old man voiced. She only hoped Geralt didn’t feel the same way.

She stood behind them in her customary lane, following along and recognizing a lot of the tips he had given her. Blessedly absent were the smiles and the occasional sweet touch that he shared with her. He slid on her ear protection and gave her a quick kiss when Triss wasn’t looking.

She felt better until they went to leave, and she followed Triss to the door. He spoke up behind her and she turned back, “Will you have dinner with me?”

A bright smile transformed her face until Triss grabbed her arm, “We’d love to! Pick us up at eight tomorrow?”

The joy melted from Yennefer’s expression and Geralt blinked away confusion. “Ah sure, eight works.” She squealed and dragged Yennefer behind her, breaking the longing between their gazes.

They climbed in her Jeep and she put the car in gear. “Yenna? I really like him, he’s nice and so freakin’ hot. Do you mind if I go alone? It would be really nice to get out on a date again. You don’t care right? You’re going back home after the trial anyway.”

She swallowed, “Yeah, I mean, I have to go home anyway.”

“Great! I’ll just tell him you’re sick.”

“Great.” She bit her lip.

\------

She peeked past the curtains and watched Geralt’s surprised expression when Triss explained that Yennefer was too _sick_ to go with them. He motioned toward the house and asked if she was alright, if they could bring her soup. Triss assured him she would be fine, and his truck pulled down the mountain to their date.

The jury in Triss’s case was due to give their ruling the next day, and she would be leaving anyway. She had students to see through competition, responsibilities. She couldn’t just disappear forever in the arms of some fling. She packed her duffle while they were out, so she could head home right away, as soon as she knew Triss was safe.

She plopped down on the blue braided rug in the center of the living room, put some relaxing music on her phone and stretched. It was probably the same rug that had been there when she was twelve, and she was doing the exact same thing. Though, she harbored no fanciful thoughts of a career dancing on Broadway this time. Some of her dreams had slipped through her fingers, but she hoped there was still time for her to help fulfill those of others.

Something creaked behind her, and she turned the music down. The north side of the house always took the wind. She relaxed on her back and envisioned the Broadway stage, every seat in the venue full, the whining notes of the orchestra filling her senses until she heard another creak.

She snapped her eyes open and came face to face with Lambert, the handsome bastard looking around the room frantically for her sister. Yennefer leapt off of the carpet and dove for her purse, fumbling for a moment before pulling her pistol confidently. She straightened and held the gun with two hands, her grip steady as Geralt taught her.

“Get the fuck out.” She snarled.

“You won’t use that,” he scoffed, “Where is she?”

She lowered the gun, clicked the safety and shot a hole in the floor a half an inch from the toe of his boot. He jumped back shocked and she leveled the barrel at his crotch.

She repeated herself. “Get the _fuck_ out.”

He ran like the coward he was, straight out the front door, right into the squealing brakes of Geralt’s truck. The driver’s side door flew open and he took off after him, the truck still running. Triss came running up the porch, “Yenna! We heard a shot, are you alright?”

Yennefer reassured her she was fine and gave her a tight hug. “How was your date little one?” She tried to distract her from the fact that she could have been hurt if she was home. 

“Wonderful.” She sighed into Yennefer’s shoulder. “Until he told me he just might love my sister. That was a hell of a buzzkill.”

“What?” Yennefer breathed. Geralt appeared again, dragging Lambert back up the road by the neck.

“Oh yeah, he’s real sorry about what I went through but there’ll be another guy for me. I think he’s kinda old too, he called me ma’am.”

Yennefer turned to hide the wide smile that she couldn’t hold back and went in the house to find something to restrain Lambert with until the police arrived. Breaking and entering would seal the deal on his case and ensure he went away long enough to keep Triss safe.

Geralt and Yennefer hefted him into the back of his truck and he whined and pleaded for them to remove the zip ties on his wrists and ankles. Triss went inside to change from her _date_ clothes.

They stood at the base of her father’s porch, and he took her hand.

“Thank you, for going along with her tonight, and for grabbing him.” She took his other hand in hers.

“He’s lucky I don’t have anything with me to bury a body.” He ran his thumbs over her hands. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I let her lie to you, because I didn’t know what else to do. I live two hours away, she’s here. If there is something there, you deserve to explore it.”

“Not a lick. And I’ve already seen more of her breasts than I ever cared to, so it’s concrete that we’re not a match.”

She let out a laugh at his irked expression. “That’s her _man_ getting sweater.” Yennefer clarified.

He leaned in closer, “She didn’t get this one.” His kiss was like a calming ocean tide, and a raging wildfire in the same token. She released his hands and traced up his arms, the warm muscle underneath her fingers driving her to distraction.

He pulled away regrettably, only to rest his forehead against hers. “I think we have something here Yennefer, something _more_ than just lust.”

“I feel it too.” She kissed the corner of his mouth. “But I hate this place with a vengeance. I don’t think I could stay here.”

He smiled, “I don’t really think that dusty old shop is my future. Once Earl goes I won’t be able to pay my bills anyway.”

“Earl said you shouldn’t pick me.” She pointed out.

“He’s a miserable old bastard who doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. He’s offended every woman in the county. Why do you think he needs so many guns?”

“Yenna!” Triss’s shout broke through their talk. “You _shot a hole_ in my living room floor!”

“That’s my girl.” He praised before pulling her close and kissing the breath from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Another little ridiculous story lol. Geralt's blue balls were not harmed in the making of this fic. I know firearms are a hot topic, but it's fiction and none of the characters used them irresponsibly so yeah. And yep, Lambie is having a bad week! I gave Triss big boobs b/c I don't see what's so great about her in the first place. (I haven't played the games, can ya tell?)
> 
> I think I'm eventually going to do more different scenarios like this, and if I revisit them (and I may lol) the chapters will be labeled with the location so it's easy to tell. :D


	3. Portland, Maine - The Bank II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An: Rated M.

\----

Her computer screen faded to black and she pulled her compact from her purse. Why had she agreed to dinner directly after work? She could have showered and worn something a bit more provocative, a push up bra maybe. _Oh well_ , she thought, freshening her mascara and pulling her emergency deodorant from her bottom drawer.

He would be coming from sweaty work, so she would still be the more poised of the two of them. It disturbed her that the thought of him sweaty did not disgust her as it should. Quite the opposite. She scrunched and tossed her hair, spitting the minty gum she had hurriedly chewed.

She pulled her office door shut behind her only to find him already seated in the waiting area, chatting with her secretary. He’d showered, the sneak, his white hair still damp and calling to her. She wanted to run her fingers through it, inhale him deeply before he sank lower between her- .

“Triss, why don’t you head home early. Don’t clock out, it’s on me.”

She smiled warmly as though she wasn’t beyond irritated at her. Triss was leaning so far over the desk to get closer to him that her breasts were ready to topple right out of the short dress she wore. As Yennefer hoped, the lure of leaving early overrode her libido and she grabbed her purse with a wave.

“That was nice of you.” He noted amiably, the half smirk on his face telling her he picked up on her territorial intentions. 

Yennefer held her bag with both hands as he stood, a whiff of shower soap and man hitting her nose. “You showered, not fair.”

“I stopped at the gym is all, you shouldn’t have to dine with sawdust in your plate.”

They walked to the elevators and he chose the last one, _their_ elevator. He was a creature of habit. On one hand it might mean he was predictable, but she was thirty-one, and a bit of consistency and dependability was appealing. If she wanted to go hog wild she would have hopped a flight to Cabo during spring break and got herself a nice case of _should I get tested_? 

“We don’t have to dine, we can just eat. We don’t need to go anywhere fancy.” She offered, the elevator doors opening for them.

“Oh, you’re choosing where we eat. If I have any hope for a second date, I’m not going to screw it up right off the bat.”

She grinned to herself, crossing onto the scrollwork patterned carpet as he followed and pressed the button for the lobby. He said what he thought, whether it got him in a bit of trouble or not. He wasn’t playing games with her, planning and overthinking each word to his advantage. It was _so_ refreshing.

The doors closed on her taking his hand in hers, a slow smile spreading on his face. When it opened to the lobby he was bent over, the day’s worth of stubble on his face scratchy on the smooth skin of her upper lip. The lobby was quiet, and no one saw her hand sneak into his short hair, the other running his collar between her fingers. The tips of her curls tickled the hand that rested warm on the small of her back, the other cupping the back of her head, his thumb stroking her ear lobe gently.

His tongue caressed hers somewhat hesitantly, unwilling to scare her off. She hummed in approval, neither of them noticing when the doors slid shut again. He held her close and she relished in the sensations of _him_ , his kiss decadent and his body firm but soft under her fingers. He tasted of fresh cinnamon, warm and comforting.

He broke the seal of their lips for air and amethyst clashed with gold, hunger and wonder reflected between them. He ghosted his lips over the corner of her mouth and pulled back slowly. “Geralt?” She asked, her voice husky.

“Hmmm?” He was reluctant to let her go.

“I want you to know, that I don’t do this. I don’t make it a habit of going to dinner with my clients, nor kissing a man I just met.” She didn’t know what his intentions were, and hell, she didn’t even know about her own, so at least this way he would know where she stood.

“I can’t remember the last time I took a woman out who refused to give me ninety thousand myself.” He grinned. “I don’t either. I don’t have any expectations, but I’m hoping you can stand to look at my ugly mug long enough for dessert.”

She feigned outrage, as though he meant she would be dessert.

“Cake!” he insisted, “ice cream, strawberries, …” He trailed off to the sound of her laughter.

She straightened her skirt and the elevator doors opened again. She didn’t know what prompted her, she was not a _cutesy_ sort of woman, but she slipped her hand in his as they walked and he gave her a squeeze.

\------

The night was going well so far, and he prayed to God he wouldn’t screw things up with her. She hadn’t balked at the size of his truck, and allowed him to help her up the running boards and onto the leather seat. She hadn’t been bothered by the circular saw on the floor behind him, nor the stray fleck of sawdust or wood chip.

She had chosen a trendy steakhouse, and he was glad he would not have to flounder between different sets of silverware, napkin folds, and champagne flutes. They sat nestled in a far corner of the restaurant in a comfortable booth, the table wide enough to accommodate for his long legs.

They waited for their meals and he asked her about the diplomas in her office. “Just how smart are you, anyway? Do I need Rosetta Stone or something?”

“Only if you want to know what I’m saying when I swear in Armenian.” She winked. Georgetown for finance seemed a hell of a lot more prestigious than the trade school he attended. He made good money though, and she had to know it, his life was in her hands just that morning. Skilled tradesman were becoming harder to come by, and his time was at a premium. Their server brought the meals and he couldn’t hide his approval at the steak in front of her.

“Was I supposed to order a dainty salad? No croutons and the dressing on the side?” She quipped, a wry expression on her face.

“Hell no. The last thing I want is to have to catch you when you pass out from eating only weeds.” He cut into his steak.

“You wouldn’t catch me?” She raised her brow.

“Of course I would. Would you think I did it only to grope you when you woke?”

“I should have ordered the weeds.”

He laughed, offering her some of the different cut of meat he ordered. Bites were swapped and they enjoyed each other’s company. He couldn’t get over how beautiful she was. From the subtle curve of her smile to the little pearls she wore on her delicate ears, he could not fathom how she was not snatched up years ago.

“Geralt!”

The moment he heard Lambert’s voice, he cursed God for his sick sense of humor. He met Lambert in high school, and hadn’t been able to get rid of him since. He and his wife Keira approached, leftovers in her hand, and he hoped she would temper his friend’s potentially idiotic remarks.

Keira smiled warmly and Geralt wiped his mouth. “Geralt man, what the hell are you doing out in the civilized world past six pm? I didn’t think you had it in you to miss Wheel of Fortune! Hey, are you getting audited?” He gestured less than subtly to Yennefer.

“Lambert! Heavens you’re rude!” His wife chastised. Geralt introduced Yennefer as his date and prayed they would go away. “It’s so nice to meet you.” Keira and Yennefer shared polite smiles.

Lambert’s eyes rounded and he zeroed in on Yennefer. “Listen Yenna,” he began, as though they were alone and familiar enough for nicknames. “I know my guy here is a little rough around the edges, but he just doesn’t date much. It’s obvious you’re out of his league, but before you dump him, just know that he’s a good guy. He’d give you the shirt off his back. And yeah, it might be a little smelly, but –“

Geralt interrupted him before he could cause any more damage. “Thank you for your stunningly terribly reference. I’ll see you Sunday for the football game.”

“Ignore everything that comes out of his mouth.” Keira advised, stepping in front of Lambert. “Geralt is a wonderful friend of ours, and we hope you two have a lovely evening.” They walked from the table and when they neared the door, Yennefer could see Keira grab him by the ear and lead him outside.

He expected her to be appalled, but instead she wore a wry smile. “One of your husband jail friends?”

“Yes, he doesn’t know how good he’s got it. She should have run years ago.” He sighed. “I’m sorry about him.”

She smiled and brought her water glass to her lips. “He thinks I will chew you up and spit you out.” She raised her brow.

“He’s a good friend, even though he can be more harm than help. I don’t watch Wheel of Fortune.”

\------

She laughed. The waitress came back, cleared their plates and asked about dessert. “What was it you promised? Cake, ice cream, and strawberries?” The girl left with their order and she decided to push her luck. She slipped her heels off and stretched her foot, free of her confining shoes.

He asked about her family, and she snuck her nylon clad toes over the edge of his boots and up the back of his calves. He hesitated for only half a second and kept up their talk. She told him that she had emigrated to the United States from Armenia with her grandmother when she was only five years old. Her parents were teens when they became pregnant, and they gave her mother’s mother full custody of Yennefer willingly. She had had no contact with her parents, and she didn’t have an interest to.

“Don’t feel bad for me, my Nan is a force to be reckoned with. Do you happen to know Calanthe Interiors?” She didn’t let up her subtle attentions on his ankle, and his hand crept across the table to intertwine his big fingers with her dainty ones.

“Yes, I’ve done a lot of custom work mimicking their designs.”

“That’s her.” Yennefer was proud of her.

“Well damn, did I ask an heiress to dinner?” He ran his thumb across her palm.

“Nope, my Nan’s going to live forever you see.”

The waitress brought them a plate filled with a decadent chocolate cake, French vanilla ice cream and a pile of fresh, ripe strawberries. Regrettably he let her hand go so she could eat, and her mischievous toes returned to her side of the booth.

She claimed one of the large strawberries, swirled it through the ice cream and sunk her teeth into it, only to look up and find him mesmerized by her. She probably could have taken two bites, _smooth move_ , she cursed to herself.

She chewed the sweet fruit carefully. “I look the proper part, but put sugar in front of me and beware the little piggie.” She offered unapologetically.

His intent gaze broke and he explained, “No, you’ve got just a bit,” he reached across the table and gently pressed his thumb to the corner of her lips, “of cream.” He pulled his hand back and she followed his motion, watching as he brought the finger to his mouth and his tongue darted out to clean it. _Check please_. She was so screwed.

“How would you like to see a boat I can’t afford?” He swallowed purposefully.

She licked her lips. “I’d love to.”

\------

The pier was quiet when they arrived, moonlight shining across the dark surface of the water. Boats loomed in their bays like giant shadows and her heels made dull clicks as they walked down the long dock, her hand in his and her skirt swirling in the evening breeze.

He stopped at one near the end of the wooden walkway, and she could swear he was almost wistful in his appraisal of the vessel. “Her owner is an old family friend, so he won’t mind our visit.” It wasn’t a magnificent boat, average in size in comparison to it’s neighbors, and not the very newest, but she could tell it was lovingly cared for.

He brought her hand to his lips and brushed a barely there kiss to her thumb before releasing her and climbing up over the side of the boat. He held his hand out for her and received her heels, and then the lady herself. He lifted her easily and she had to force down the thrill of being held in his strong arms.

The moon and the lamp he lit gave enough light that she could see while he showed her around the deck, her feet chilled on the cool metal. He showed her briefly how the boat operated and how the different sails were used for different purposes. She listened intently, but couldn’t hold back a quick shiver, and it didn’t get past him.

“You’re cold aren’t you? Here, just one second.” He ducked below and came back with a baggy sweater and thick socks for her. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you that we’d be going _off_ _road_ this evening.”

She donned the socks and slipped the sweater over her head, while he pulled her hair free from the collar gently. She had to slow herself down, they had only met that morning. When she looked into his eyes she lost herself, her thoughts fanciful and impulsive. What was it about him that robbed her of her common sense, her anxiety and worry?

“I don’t mind, the boat is beautiful.” She really did admire it, and she could see why he wanted to go out on a limb and purchase it. “In fact, I think it was just the little adventure I needed.” He nodded, happy she was enjoying herself. “You, Geralt, I think _you’re_ what I was looking for.”

He cleared his throat and she thought all was lost.

“Thank God, because I can’t explain this. We just met, and I am already loathing my day tomorrow because you won’t be there with me.”

She leaned into his chest, relieved. “Don’t skip ahead too fast, what if you’re leaving out the best part?” God she was brazen, but damn if he didn’t bring it out in her. He took her bait and bent his head to kiss her, his hands tangled in the bulky sweater around her waist.

\------

He itched to sneak his hands under the sweater, to guide her down below and uncover the undoubtedly soft skin he had been thinking about since the moment she hustled into the elevator that morning. He wondered though, when she would tire of slumming and realize she was too good for him. She slid her calf against his and he was powerless to stop his tongue from pressing against the seal of her lips, requesting entrance to the sweet recesses of her mouth.

She parted for him on a sigh and his tongue plunged ahead, her mouth carrying a hint of sweet strawberry. She tilted her head a bit and parried his advance, the stubble on his face leaving her pale skin rosy. Her hands traveled up his arms and she stood on her toes, a soft mewl from her lips when they connected again.

He let his hand trace along the waistband of her skirt where her blouse tucked in and she smiled against his lips. She had to be able to feel the pounding of his heart the way she stood against his chest, and he tipped his forehead to hers when her heels returned to the deck and they both fought for air. He opened his eyes and watched her do the same, long lashes giving way to the most dazzling pair of amethysts.

“You know what, I think he’s got some champagne below. Would you like -“

“Yes.”

He laughed, taking a moment to kick off his boots and leave them neatly by her heels. He led her down to a small kitchen and dining area, turning on a light to reveal a surprisingly roomy bed situated on the other side of the cabin. “You never know when you’ll need to christen a friend’s new vessel.” He climbed down on all fours to rummage through a low cabinet and came up victorious with a small bottle of champagne and two plaid coffee mugs.

“We don’t have glasses, but here’s a pretty good mix of us. An elegant bottle of fancy bubbly, and a pair of beat up mugs that are probably from a camper.” The combination was comical. She sat on the edge of the bed, setting her purse on the plush carpet and running her fingers over the suede comforter.

“Hey,” she countered, “I love plaid. My throw pillows are plaid. It comforts me, and makes me want to snuggle.” He raised a brow before twisting and tugging on the cork, and she tensed herself for the pop.

The cork slipped from the mouth of the bottle silently. He tipped it to check the date and she clicked her tongue. “You’re saying I’m old and flat?” Her sassy smirk required no comeback. He tried one last effort and opened the small fridge to find an unopened bottle of apple juice. She held up her mug, approving of his discovery.

She sipped the juice as though it was the champagne, and he sat on the bed next to her. “So we won’t be christening another boat, but how about the bed?”

\-----

Juice caught in the back of his throat and she patted him on the back. “Yennefer, I - I want to see you again.” He sounded unsure. How had she misread so many signals? He didn’t want her?

As though he read her thoughts he hurried to clarify. “I want to, _God_ , I do,” her eyes fell to the uncomfortable looking bulge in his jeans, “but I don’t want to cheapen it, or ruin it. This isn’t a one night stand for me and - “

She put her fingers to his lips. “I understand. We talked about it, and it isn’t like that for either of us. You mentioned your friend is in Florida, so let’s just lay together and talk.”

He seemed satisfied with that, and latched the door so they wouldn’t have any unwelcome visitors, namely the security guard who monitored the pier during the week. The sweater was too much inside the cabin, and when she pulled it over her head, her blouse went with it unintentionally. He clicked the light off and froze, moonlight pouring through the circular window onto her bare shoulders. Her nipples pebbled and strained against her silky violet bralette under his gaze.

She pulled the blouse from the sweater and made to put it back on. He laid his hands over hers and shook his head. “Here, we’re even.” He undid the buttons of his shirt deftly and shrugged out of it, piling their clothes on the opposite side of the bed. Her stare matched his, and she did her best to keep her jaw from dropping at the rugged planes of his chest.

They stood and he pulled up the comforter so she could crawl in, following behind her. She wriggled around for a moment and produced a fistful of her nylons, tossing them on the pile. She felt his breath on her neck as he cuddled up to her back, the rough denim of his jeans tantalizing behind her thighs where her skirt bunched. Crisp chest hair tickled her back and he pressed a chaste kiss to her bare shoulder, a warm arm wrapped over her hip and his hand settled over her sternum.

“Tell me about your childhood.” She asked, her arm resting on his.

“Single mom, two younger sisters, nothing too out of the ordinary. Mom worked hard and cares too much. I’m thirty-four and she’s probably wondering why I haven’t texted her goodnight.”

She turned slightly in his arms, “That is the sweetest thing, you better text her right now.” She smiled when he realized she was serious. He pulled his phone from his pocket, dratted thing that had ruined her quest to grope him in the elevator that morning. He turned the screen for her to reveal;

Mom: _Geralt sweetie, you alright_?

He fired back a quick response. “She lives alone, I try to keep tabs on her.”

“She taught you well,” she smiled softly, “and your sisters?”

“Essi is the baby, she manages a daycare and just got married last year. Philippa was born right after I was, she works in an accounting firm and handles my scheduling and books. Don’t worry, you’ll never meet her.”

“She sounds like my kind of sister, why wouldn’t I meet her?”

“She’s a lesbian, and she’ll take one look at you and make it her goal in life to steal you from me.”

Yennefer smirked and rolled the rest of the way to face him, cupping his jaw in her palm. “Not a chance.” She whispered before capturing his lips in a soft kiss. He followed her when she pulled back, and by the time she relaxed against the pillow, a high blush stained her cheeks and her heart raced.

He slid his leg over hers to lean across the bed and open the window, the circular glass pane popped open and cool, ocean air breezed in the cabin. The movement aligned their hips and he froze, the coarse fabric of his jeans easily felt through her flimsy skirt. She ran her hands up his bare arms, biceps and shoulders thick from hard work. She tucked her lip under pearly white teeth, watching his resolve crumble behind his eyes.

“You won’t disappear?”

He had to know how much she wanted him, her breaths quick and her skin flushed. He was an old soul, and someone had definitely hurt him in the past. He searched her face carefully for any inkling that she was unsure.

She leaned up and brushed her nose to his, “ _Not a chance._ ” Her softly repeated words and the press of her lips to his were his undoing. His shoulders relaxed and she sighed into their kiss, the weight of him comforting and alluring in kind.

He broke from her lips and trailed across her jaw and down her neck, leaving a damp trail to the dainty straps of her bralette. Big fingers traced the creamy skin of her shoulder and she slipped her legs out from between his, bringing her core tighter against his erection. He tipped his forehead to hers in pleasure and she wound her thighs around his waist.

She leaned up so he could slip the silky garment from her chest, and when it cleared her fingertips she was met with his hungry expression. Her insecurities were banished by the smolder in his eyes. He wasted no more time, bending to cover her sensitive skin with supple lips. A shudder rolled through her when he took her nipple in his mouth, swirling and sucking gently while she failed to stop her hips from rolling under his.

Jesus, if she had only known what his mouth was capable of that morning, she would have pulled the fire alarm and seduced him right on the carpet of the elevator. He switched to her other breast and worked his tongue with more urgency, his hand ghosting over the wet peak of it’s twin. A soft moan escaped her lips, one hand stroking through his hair and the other running along the hills and valleys of his back.

He slid back up to take possession of her lips and she reached low over his jeans, giving his muscular rear a good squeeze. He groaned into her mouth and she dragged her skirt over his groin. She was breathless as she slipped his wallet from his pocket, the leather warm and worn in her hands. “It’s in the back,” he mumbled, he mouth on her throat and his fingers exploring the band of her skirt.

She found the condom and replaced his wallet. He slunk down her body and trailed little licks and nibbles down her belly. She wrapped her hand under his chin gently. “Next time Geralt, I can’t wait.”

He obeyed on her vow of a _next time_ , and when he returned to her height she pushed against his shoulder and rolled them over. He gave no indication that her show of dominance bothered him, and his security in himself only added to his appeal.

———

He ran his hands up the back of her bare thighs, cupping her derrière and sneaking his fingers under the satin panties she wore. She guided one of his hands around her hip and between her legs, and he swore when he brushed along her soaked panties. She slid away and worked the buckle of his belt and then his fly, and it was her turn to curse when she freed him from his boxers. He hid his smirk, at least he knew he was adequate in _that_ department.

She traced him with her small hand, feathering kisses along his shaft and he closed his eyes, head falling back on the pillow. She took the tip in her mouth, swirling her tongue before he pressed her shoulders gently. “Next time,” he reminded her.

He pushed her skirt and panties past the flare of her hips, and lifted up so she could tug his jeans and boxers past his feet. He reached around for the packet she pulled from his wallet, and she crawled up his thighs, desire for him plain on her face.

He no more than rolled it on before she was ready, hovering over him on all fours, and the most alluring thing he’d ever seen. He was just as desperate as she, and he absolutely loved that she was not afraid to show it. She pursed her lips in concentration, lashes fluttered shut and her mouth a perfect ‘o’ when her hips rested on his.

His pulse beat loud in his ears and he let out a ragged breath, tempted to ask if she was a virgin. He knew she couldn’t be, but _Christ_ she was tight. When she began to move, just subtle, exploratory rocks against him, he couldn’t hold back his pleasured groan. He helped steady her with a hand on her hip, and the other pawed and caressed the perfect breasts that swayed over him so tantalizingly.

He thrust upward to meet her movement and she gave little moans when their rhythms aligned and he reached particularly deeply inside her. Her raven colored curls hung like a soft curtain and her hips became more hurried, her dainty hands braced against his chest, tightening into the crisp hair that adorned his pectorals.

She gave in with a few desperate pleas, “ _Geralt_ , don’t stop, oh God _don’t stop_.” He banded an arm around her back and thrust for the both of them as she came apart, her core fighting his withdrawals as her frame shuddered and trembled her release.

———

She sank against his chest and he rolled her on her back, bracing his elbows on either side of her dazed expression before he began moving again. He tangled his hands in her hair and she held him close, cheek to cheek. His little grunts and pants against her ear stirred something in her that she didn’t know she possessed, and it had her wrapping her legs around him and pulling him deeper.

She had never been a fan of the position, she liked it when she could control the exchange with her partner, but there was something thrilling about surrendering to him and relaxing back to watch him create their pleasure. Perspiration gathered on his brow and his thrusts became more frantic. She guided him to her mouth and he slowed a bit to kiss her, fighting his need for air against his desire to taste her. She slid one hand down her belly and laid her fingers over her clit, letting his thrusts move her hand.

Her other clutched and dragged over his back as he came unwound, the motion of his hips sharp and firm. He pushed his elbows up and off of the bed, giving her a beautiful view of the bliss on his face, accompanied by his deep groan. A shudder rolled up his back and through his shoulders but he kept moving inside her, his lips finding hers again.

She moaned when he replaced her hand and rolled her clit between his fingers. He bent to suckle her breast, and she turned her face into the flexing muscles of his arm. She stifled her pants and whimpers until she couldn’t, clutching his arms and rolling her hips against his desperately. Pleasure raced and then soothed her to a blissful exhaustion.

He withdrew and she was hesitant to let him go, but he pressed a warm kiss to her lips and tucked the comforter around her while he ducked into the small restroom. He returned only a few moments later and he offered her more of the juice, and a few sips later he climbed in beside her. She curled her body into his embrace, the sounds of the water washing against the hull of the boat soothing to her ears.

“I’m still here.” She reminded him, dancing her fingers across his rough cheek, smiling softly at his sleepy expression. “To be fair, I’m not sure I could run if I wanted to.”

She caught his smirk before his lips brushed her forehead. She tucked her legs between his and drifted to sleep under the gentle brush of his fingers through her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Oh hey, I don’t know a thing about boats :D One more chapter for these two eventually, where the boring talk in this chap will come into play 😇.


	4. Mayville, North Dakota - The Farm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Rated T

He almost dropped the shovel in his hand when he saw her. She stuck out like a sore thumb in the humble feed shop. She moved with an ethereal grace that drew his eyes to her, as though she was magnetic. Her boots were new, not a speck of mud yet on the sweet smelling rubber. Tight, form fitting jeans hugged her shapely calves and trim thighs, and inches of her pale, flawless skin peeked from below the hem of her shirt.

He’d replaced the shovel in the rack and pretended to read the label on a large bag of dog food just down the isle from her. The flannel material of her plaid shirt looked soft and warm, and yet out of place on a creature as breathtaking as she. The elegant profile of her face was unlike any woman he’d met, and the pile of inky curls atop the crown of her head gave him the urge to feel their certainly soft texture.

She stretched up on her toes again, grasping desperately for a fifty pound bag of kibble on the highest shelf. He walked over and picked up the bag easily, his height and strength making the task simple. Her perfume reached his nose and he quickly drew another breath, savoring the sweet smell of berries.

It was the top of the line dog chow, the most expensive the store carried, and somehow that fit her. He had an unexplainable, innate feeling that she was worth it. He handed her the bag, and she took it with just a bit of trouble. “Thank you. Why they make the shelves so high I’ll never know!”

Her voice was like bells in his ears.

He smiled. “So guys like me don’t have to bend over so far. Happy to carry that for you, if you’d like.”

“I suppose so.” She shrugged. “Actually, I only wanted to read the ingredients. I’m not sure just what to buy, I’m running an errand for someone else.”

He took the bag back and positioned the label so she could see it. It made sense, she was definitely not at home in the old store. The metal roof groaned against the wind, and the store smelled slightly of old wood and sawdust.

“What kind of dog you looking to feed?”

“Two, a pair of Border Collies. They’re three or four years old, but I’m not sure what she buys.”

Context clues led him to guess who the favor was for, after all, it was a terribly small town. “Mrs. Tuirseach’s collies? Achilles and Briseis?”

She was shocked. “Yes, how did you know?”

“Not too many farms left that still use dogs to heard their sheep. Poor things are caged up their whole lives.” He shook his head. “For those two, I’d pick something high protein, middle of the road.” He gestured with his shoulder toward the other end of the isle, and heaved the overpriced chow back up on the shelf.

She was still reeling about the fact that he knew the exact pups she shopped for. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

\------

That was a stupid question, of course she didn’t. She hadn’t been out to her grandmother’s farm since she was fifteen or sixteen. She was born and raised in New York City, but she spent every summer with her grandparents from the time she could walk until she was a teenager. Her parents divorced and her father passed away, and as an only child, she was the last family Calanthe could call upon during hard times to help with her farm.

She had slipped on a freshly mopped floor and broken her hip. The hospital called Yennefer and she took a leave of absence from her job as a copy editor, and hopped on the next flight to the Dakotas. Calanthe fretted that she could not manage the farm on her own until she was healed, but Yennefer was determined to make things work until she was fit enough to return.

The big farmhouse was as beautiful as she remembered, and it was a testament to her grandmother’s grit and work ethic that she managed it on her own. She had a young man come to work a few days a week, but most of the labor was done by her own hand. Yennefer hoped her own hands would suffice, and that the animals wouldn’t suffer for her lack of experience.

“I don’t think we’ve met, Geralt.” He held his big hand out for her and she shook it, as firmly as she could muster.

“Yennefer, Calanthe is my grandmother.”

“Nice to meet you Yennefer. How is she doing? I texted her when I heard she fell, but she said she had out of town help and didn’t need me.”

Her heart swelled at the concern on his handsome face. Not only did he know her grandmother, but he was close enough with her to know her dogs and volunteer to help her. She tried not to overthink things, but something pulled in her belly when she pictured him coming to her grandmother’s rescue.

He was not her type, at all. The men she dated had been of average, lean builds, more interested in playing squash and golf than hard work. Their hands had been smooth and manicured, where his was rough and calloused, dwarfing her small palm. It was impossible for her to determine his age, his long white hair a contrast to the youthful, angular lines of his face, and his smile brightened up the poor lighting in the store.

His wide shoulders and impressive height were only fitting with the pull of his biceps and broad chest on his shirt. A thick leather belt and fitted jeans led down to a pair of knee high boots, well worn and caked with fall mud.

“I’m afraid _I’m_ the out of town help, but I’ll manage. She’s doing well, no complications with the surgery and she was transferred to rehab already. Thank you so much for the tip on the dog food, their tummies will be happy with your choice I’m sure.” She bent to slide the bag from the pile on the shelf, and he tried to grab it at the same time. She looked up, ready to carry it on her own, and her knees nearly buckled when she saw his eyes.

Concern reflected in their golden depths, concern for a perfect stranger who could obviously use a hand. He seemed frozen, neither willing to tear their gazes apart.

“Let me put this in your car for you, at least.”

“You don’t work here, there’s no need to go out of your way.”

“I insist, if I don’t I’ll lay awake at night thinking of you struggling with it.”

He swallowed hard and she bit her lip.

“Weren’t you purchasing a shovel?”

Amusement softened his eyes when she unintentionally revealed that she had noticed him too.

“They don’t have the size I need, I’ll have to order it in. I’m available to carry this out for Calanthe’s granddaughter any day.”

She gave in and he carried the heavy bag to the counter. She handed the clerk her card, and he handed it back apologetically, they only accepted cash. She apologized and told the young man she would return for the food in the morning, but Geralt had already pulled out his wallet and handed him the necessary bills.

He carried the bag to the back of Calanthe’s old pickup and loaded it for her. “You shouldn’t have done that, how am I going to get the money to you? Venmo? Paypal?”

He shook is head, he had neither. “Why don’t I follow you back to the farm and you can pay me from the jar above the fridge? I’ll take a look around and make sure I can’t help with anything else tonight, because I don’t think Chireadan will be in until Monday morning.”

Her eyes widened when he gave such detail about the workings of her grandmother’s farm. Any of these country bumpkins could have a jar full of cash.

“Call her.” He offered. “Ask her if she’s comfortable with it. If not, I’ll buzz off and leave you alone.”

She took his advice. She set her phone to speaker and laid it on the dog food.

“Gran, it’s Yenna, how are you feeling?”

_“Trapped baby, I need to get outside and get some projects going! How did you find things at my place?”_

“Everything’s fine, but you needed dog food. I’m at the feed store and a man volunteered to follow me back and help with the sheep.”

_“A man? Sounds iffy, are you alright?”_

“Oh yes, I just wanted to know if you knew him. Tall, ah, big, white hair –“

 _“Geralt!”_ Calanthe squawked. _“Oh how fortunate! Yes baby, he’s a good man, let him help you. You know sweetie, he’s not seeing anyone right –“_ Yennefer mashed the screen of her phone to silence the speaker and put it to her ear, a rosy blush staining her cheeks.

She could tell he fought to keep his twitching lip from breaking out into a full smirk.

“Alright gran, yes. I will. I will, I promise. Alright I’ll see him Monday then. Feel better, I love you too.” She ended the call and closed the tailgate on the truck.

“So, if you wouldn’t mind, that would be wonderful. She’s got some great homemade food in her freezer, I could heat something up to make it worth your time.” She dragged the toe of her boot through the gravel at her feet.

“Don’t offer it unless you mean it. Her meatloaf doesn’t mess around.” There was such kindness in his tone.

She nodded, she meant it. She would sleep better knowing the animals had been tended by someone who apparently knew what he was doing. It wasn’t for her, but the animals. _Sure_ , she couldn’t even fool herself into thinking she would not enjoy his presence a bit longer.

The bright headlights of his truck followed her down the long country roads, his quite a few years younger than Calanthe’s old work truck. The dogs heard them approach and ran the length of the fence until she parked the truck and he pulled up next to her.

She shushed their excited barks, pulling open the gate and expecting them to attack her with kisses as they had earlier that day. Both dogs slipped right past her to jump and dance around Geralt excitedly, and she couldn’t help but feel jealous.

“I brought them bacon once. It’s not you.”

He seemed satisfied with her smile, and they walked toward the barn. Calanthe maintained a flock of over a hundred animals, mostly ewes, and they grazed out in a large fenced-in field. He checked over the condition of the barn, and helped her tidy a few things. The dogs trotted along with them happily until Geralt issued a command she didn’t catch.

Both collies shot from the open barn and began running their paces down the length offence. They began to crowd the sheep, and it wasn’t long before the pair had the beasts thundering into the building. He smiled at the awed look on her face, and reiterated the command he used so she could learn it.

“They’re good dogs. I’ve got their brother and sister, Hector and Andromache.” If she thought her grandmother had chosen unique names for her dogs, now she understood why.

When the sheep were stowed away safely for the night, they went to the house and he feed the dogs from their new bag of food. She pulled two plates of meatloaf and mashed potatoes from the freezer, and put them in the oven to warm. He entered the kitchen, his boots out by the door, and washed his hands at the sink.

The Tuirseach farm house was large, far larger than one older woman needed. Boasting five bedrooms and three baths, she had no idea how Calanthe managed the upkeep on the place. Yennefer had a hard enough time keeping up with her cereal dishes in her apartment while working sixty hours a week. Farming was not an easy life, and she knew her grandmother could scoff at sixty hours if she chose to.

He turned to dry his hands on the towel, and she couldn’t explain the easy feeling she felt with him. Her grandmother knew him, but it was more than that. Something about his presence calmed her, but excitement ran through her at the same time. He was gentle with the animals, and he’d been kind to a stranger, be he was _so_ damn attractive.

“Oh! Here, I forgot.” She reached above the freezer, the glass mason jar scooting across the slick surface and dancing away from her fingers. Again he reached from behind her and guided the jar to her hand, the closeness of his body warming her back. He smelled of leather and aftershave, and the top of her head bumped his chin as she backed away from the fridge. She turned to apologize, and his hand went to the crown of her head to soothe the sting.

\------

“Alright?” He asked, rubbing little circles through her hair.

“I’m fine,” she reached with her free hand to cup his chin, “you?”

“Yennefer, are you seeing someone?” His deep voice seemed to curl through her chest.

“No, why –“

His lips covered hers and silenced the rest of her question. He knew he was taking a risk, but there was nothing he could do to stop himself. Her lips were as soft as they looked, supple and full, and as soon as he could form thoughts he hoped for another kiss.

She overcame her surprise and pressed back against him, her dark lashes falling closed and her thumb stroking across his cheek. He slid up to take her lip between his, and she tilted her head to run her tongue over his lower. He took the jar from her hand and slid it back up on the refrigerator blindly, not planning to take her money in the first place.

Her palm fell to his chest and he buried his hand deeper in her soft tresses. She made a low sound in her throat when his tongue swept into her mouth and she leaned against him, her body soft and yielding. He had hoped she wouldn’t haul back and slap him, but her eager response just stoked the mysterious fire that seemed to burn him from the inside out. 

Her hands trailed around his neck and he banded his arm across her back, his fingers brushing the curve of her breast over the soft flannel of her shirt. She gasped, pulling away for a moment to breathe, and he lamented the loss of her sweet taste. Her teeth nibbled his bottom lip delicately and he backed her up against the smooth appliance, his hand between her head and the metal door.

Her calf slid up the side of his, and he groaned when the bulge in his jeans lined up with the cradle of her hips. Small hands reached up into his hair, and he realized she was just as desperate for him as he was for her. She whimpered into his mouth when she felt him, and suddenly reality crashed back through his senses.

What the _hell_ was he thinking? He met her just a few hours before, and she was only in town to assist her ailing grandmother. The same woman who vouched for him, and to repay her trust, he would simply fuck her granddaughter against her refrigerator. He leaned back and cool air rushed between them. He unthreaded his hand from around her back and she opened her eyes to his, confusion apparent in their rich, violet depths.

He cleared his throat, “I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry.” Her shoulders sank and she unwound her fingers from his wild hair.

“Oh,” she licked her lips, “me neither. The stress of leaving my job to come out here, you know. It’s got me all jumbled up.” The oven timer beeped and she jumped in his arms, startled by the harsh sound. She didn’t give him a chance to elaborate, and busied herself with the meal.

Yennefer set the promised meatloaf down at the head of the table, and set a cold beer next to it for him. “Thank you for your help today.” He sat down. “Don’t expect a repeat performance, I’m not Betty Crocker.” He laughed and watched her at the sink, waiting for her to join him before he dug into the food.

She seemed to take the _incident_ by the fridge in stride, and they talked amiably while the sun set outside the large picture window by the table. Achilles and Briseis both laid in front of the oven, soaking up the heat it still gave off. He asked her about her family and she did the same. Geralt was an only child as well, and his parents were both gone, leaving him the family cattle farm to run.

“I’ve kept you for hours now, your animals aren’t missing you?”

“They probably are, but I’ve got two guys on staff that’ll take care of them until I get back.”

She told him about the summers she spent on the farm, and her job in New York. _God_ , she was impressive. Living in the city on her own was a feat, and working as hard as she did, he saw Calanthe in her clear as day. He cleaned his plate and she found some vanilla ice cream for them, his brow raising as she applied a _liberal_ amount of hot fudge to hers. She shrugged and licked her spoon without shame.

She got up to put her dishes in the sink, and he followed with his own. “How long will you stay?”

“My boss was surprisingly understanding, and I can do a lot from here on my laptop, so I’m not quite sure yet.”

He nodded. That was fair, but he could feel himself begin to slip. He’d _just_ met her, and he wanted her to say that she would stay a while. Maybe a little more toward forever. He had to get out of there before he did something rash. Lied to himself and tricked his own heart into thinking he could have anything with this woman.

“Well, I think you’re in good shape for tomorrow. Give me a call if you have any problems, I’ll send someone over to help you.” He would send Coën or Jaskier, he didn’t trust himself around her.

“Thank you, you’ve really been too nice. Are you sure you won’t take the money? Gran would want you to have it.”

“She’ll just have to get better and give it to me herself.” He pulled his boots on and hesitated at the back door. Both dogs raised their heads to watch him go. “It was nice to meet you Yennefer. I hope you enjoy your visit.”

With one last look, he turned and walked down the back porch toward his truck. She locked the door behind him with a sigh. “Well you two, it’s just us tonight. I think we’ll watch a movie, huh?” A gruff bark answered her.

———

Geralt drove down the long country lane toward his farm, leaves swirling in the road behind him. His headlights shone bright on the asphalt, and Jaskier’s country station whined and moaned a sad song in the cabin of the truck.

_“Tell her that I’m happy, and I’ve moved on,_

_Better than I’ve ever been,_

_Just don’t tell her that you saw me, drownin’ in this bottle_

_Tryin’ to make her disappear_

_You tell her I’m anywhere,_

_Anywhere but here”_

Suddenly he slammed on the breaks, tires squealing, break dust rumbling forward and clouding the beams of his headlights. What the _actual fuck_ was he doing? He knew better than to let a good woman sail in and then out of his life so quickly. He would spend the coming weeks thinking about her in every free moment, and she would leave for New York all the same.

All he would accomplish by letting her go, was to lose precious moments with her. There was something, _something_ about her that made his heart race and his hand itch to hold hers. To touch her face, to feel her breath on his lips again.

He turned the truck around and headed back to the Tuirseach farm, ready to make an ass out of himself.

———

Yennefer pulled her gran’s fuzzy robe around her shoulders, her fleece pajamas comforting and warm. She lit a few of the cider scented candles by the television, and settled on the couch, flipping through the Netflix menu. She chose a documentary on Queen Elizabeth, and laid her head on one of the throw pillows her gran had chosen. She brought the fabric to her nose. The house smelled of her, apples and her lavender perfume.

Suddenly something creaked behind her and she spun to look toward the back door. All seemed well, she assumed it must have been the wind gusting up under the porch. She no more than turned back to the tv and she heard it again. Achilles got up from his bed in the corner of the room to sniff at the door. _Oh shit_ , she thought, there was really something out there.

She hustled into the kitchen, her bare feet cold on the tile floor. She opened the broom closet and breathed a sigh of relief when she recognized her gran’s trusty twenty gauge shotgun. She took just a moment to familiarize herself with it, the last time she’d held a gun her last summer at the farm when she and one of the young hands had tried and failed to shoot skeet.

She checked that it was loaded and crept toward the door. The handle of the old wooden door shook and her stomach dropped. It wasn’t an animal, it was person, someone who knew she was there alone. Achilles barked and the knob turned, the heavy door swinging outward slowly. She flipped on the porch light and filled the doorframe, the gun up by her face and ready to fire.

“Oh fuck,” he held his hands up in surrender, “it’s just me, I’m so sorry.”

“Geralt?” She lowered the shotgun and switched the safety back on.

“She told me where the key was in case of emergencies. I was going to knock but then I thought you might be asleep and the dogs would wake you up. I realized I never got your number to tell you it was me. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, come in, the wind is freezing.”

He closed the door behind him and she returned the gun to the closet. Achilles sat by his feet and wagged his tail happily. She’d brushed her hair out and her wild curls hung in disorder down her back, the fuzzy robe and pajamas completing her not-so-sexy appearance. She held out her hand, and he looked back confused.

“Your phone. I’ll put my number in it and get yours in case something comes up. That’s why you came back?”

“It’s actually not.” He looked at the television and at the flickering candles she had burning. “I turned around,” he swallowed, “because I missed you. Already.” He waited for her appalled expression, but she was only curious.

“I know we just met, but I have this feeling, this hope that I can spend more time with you. I know that’s probably too much, but I don’t..I’ve never felt - “

“I thought you weren’t into me? Earlier, by the refrigerator, you made it pretty clear that kissing me was a mistake.” She did a poor job of hiding the hurt on her face.

“I stopped because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to. Your grandmother trusts me, and I didn’t think it fair to have my way with her granddaughter in the middle of her kitchen.”

Her eyes went wide.

“It’s the truth, and if you’re not interested I understa-“

This time it was Yennefer who silenced _him_. Her bare heels left the floor and she clutched at his sides, the feel of his lips against hers just as thrilling as it had been earlier. The robe was soft under his hands as he reached to hold her arms, his lips opening for her as she controlled their embrace. They kissed until her arms were wrapped around his back, and his hands were low on her hips.

She pulled away slightly and he nudged his nose against hers. “How bad would it be for your honor to have your way with me upstairs instead?”

“Not as bad,” he spoke under his breath, the spell of her kiss still heavy in the air, “but still pretty shitty of me.”

“Damn that _honor_.” She whispered, leaning up to initiate another long, luxurious kiss. Her hand pulled from his back and crossed over his middle, stopping to caress him through his jeans. He stopped breathing, her other hand circled around to rest on his heart, the racing pitter patter a compliment. “It’s too bad,” she ran her hand over him gently, “because I think she would tell _me_ to go for it.”

“You’re sure about that?” Even as he asked her his hands slipped underneath her robe at her waist, his eyes closed languidly with the movements of her hand.

“Positive.” Her fingers toyed with his belt, and before she knew it his hands were under her thighs and she was up in his arms. She rolled her hips against his and he pressed open mouthed kisses to the creamy skin above the neckline of her pajama top. He walked them toward the stairs, her body so petite in his arms, before she remembered, “Geralt, the candles.”

He walked them back over and they both blew them out, racing each other by the time they reached the last. She smirked, “I win.”

He strode back over toward the stairs purposefully. “I let you win.” He countered, pausing so she could flip the kitchen light off, and return her hands to his thick shoulders.

The room went dark and she squeezed her legs around his waist. “I think we’ve yet to find out who the _real_ winner is.” He hummed in response, taking the stairs faster than someone his size should be able to.

Briseis perked her ears at Yennefer’s shout of laugher, and lowered her head back down to sleep. A heady moan echoed down the stairs, and she covered her ears with her paws.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Idk a dang thing abt sheep or real farms. The song is Anywhere But Here, by Chris Cagle, straight off a classic breakup playlist of mine XD.


	5. Los Angeles, California - The Frat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This meet-cute is a bit less cute. In fact, it’s really just some trashy smut, so be warned we aren’t lovey dovey town here! Rated: E
> 
> No substance, just a Halloween gift for the lovely DarkGlowingLight, aka GhostyTheWitchy on Twitch; check her out on the weekends while she streams the Witcher III! :D

———

“Oh, sis, he is going to regret the day he was born if you show up to the party looking like that! _ME-OW!”_

Yennefer smirked. The annual Alpha Phi Halloween rager would be the perfect opportunity to make her ex jealous. Under no circumstance would she take that cheating, cowardly, rat bastard back; but revenge was a sweet proposition.

The Catwoman suit she had received in error when she ordered a _Hello Kitty_ costume freshman year, would come in handy. It was perfect really. She was covered in shiny, skin-tight pleather from the suit’s wide open collar to the tips of her spiked black boots. It covered more of her arms than her chest, the bust zipped open to display her wonderbra’s most impressive achievement yet.

Philippa approached from behind her and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. It was no secret Yennefer’s sorority sister was gay, and the second Yennefer’s tears had dried, she made her intentions known. She wrapped her hands over Yennefer’s trim waist and dragged them up the black corset top, squeezing her breasts for good measure. She whispered in her ear playfully, “Turn to the dark side my tempting kitten, we could have such a lovely time, no cock driven imbeciles to break your precious heart.”

“Phil,” she purred back, “you know I’m weak, I need the _D_. It’s been three weeks, and I’m going to find one among those Alpha morons. I’ll find him, tempt him, lure him in, and spit him out the like yesterday’s used napkin.”

Philippa let her go and gave her a firm swat to her plump behind. “I love it when you talk dirty to me baby.”

“I’m going to make some unsuspecting _man_ think he’s the king of the damn world, right before I throw him in the trash.” Yennefer put her hands on her hips and turned, biting her lip in the mirror.

“Oh, sweetie, you make my panties wet. To think such an innocent little daddy’s girl has blossomed into such a naughty young lady, my work here is done.”

The door to Yennefer’s room opened behind them. “Phil, are you hitting on her again?” Renfri shook her head. “She’s rebounding from an asshole boyfriend, not a ripe straight woman for your plucking.”

Philippa pouted, her spell broken. Renfri’s eyes widened as she took in Yennefer’s costume. “And if your dad finds out about tonight’s little adventure?”

Yennefer’s father was a Dean at USC, and he had nearly expelled Istredd when he found he had cheated on his princess. She was such a good girl, that this sudden rebellious, risky streak she had adopted the past two weeks would definitely have him spinning if he found out. She had only joined Alpha Kappa Alpha because her mother was an alumna, and she had done her best to make her parents happy and proud.

Until that night, she had never even considered attending one of their counterpart frat brother’s parties. She was too cool, sophisticated, and frankly too good of a student. The women Renfri walked in on, however, did not look the part of any _good girl_ she knew.

“She needs a good fuck Ren, and I’m just not good enough.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Yennefer countered, her smile mischievous in the mirror, “if I don’t end up getting any tail at the party, you can show me one of your toys.”

Renfri’s eyes grew wide. “Yennefer, since when do you use the word _tail_?” And since when would she entertain Phil’s advances? Philippa was not what she would call a _tender_ lover. When Yennefer woke in the morning in a heap on the floor with welts on her ass, there would be hurt feelings for sure. Damn it, she would be spending her Halloween night helping Yennefer get _tail_.

“Alright girls, how will I pee in this?”

\------

Three sets of high heels clicked up the sidewalk to the Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity mansion. The sun had gone down hours ago, and loud music blasted from the house, base rattling the windows. College students in bloody costumes littered the lawn, overflowing from the house already.

Philippa lead the trio, her bright red bikini and devil horns leaving no question of who she dressed up as. Blood red lipstick and cranberry stilettos complimented her wicked smile. Renfri shook her head at the tacky Halloween décor that lined the drive, her fitted Zena costume looking badass, but giving her a wedgie.

Yennefer’s dark lipstick and black eye makeup made her look mysterious, and just a bit dangerous. Violet irises flashed behind the small black mask, cat ears poking up from the thick mass of charcoal black curls that hung down her back. A shiny black whip hung from her hip, and a black satin choker adorned the hollow of her throat.

It was a complete thrill to let the Halloween spirit take her, and to become someone else for a night. She was a 4.0 student, much too focused on internships and making a career for herself than partying and drinking. She had been a faithful girlfriend of four years, uninterested in their frat brothers or any other man on campus. Tonight she was not stuck up, stuffy Yennefer, but _Selena_.

Almost magically the door opened as they ascended the cobweb covered porch. “Ah!” Jaskier shouted and gestured, “if it isn’t the Sanderson sister hags once again!” He caught a glimpse of Yennefer and stopped. “But who do we have here? The third sister, risen from her crypt, and ready to suck the life from my party?”

Yennefer clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Suck your own.”

Jaskier hissed dramatically. “Ohhhhh, and she’s just as poisonous as the rest of you Alpha Kappa witches.”

He opened the door all the way to reveal a cow suit, complete with a set of udders, positioned strategically over his groin.

Philippa barked out a laugh and walked past him with a scoff. Renfri stuck her nose up at him, and he barred his arm across the door when it was Yennefer’s turn.

“Pretty kitty.” He tried to sound suave. “Go ahead give one a squeeze.”

“I’m lactose intolerant.” She fired back.

A deep voice called over his shoulder, “Get your perverted cock roulette out of her face Jask, _Christ_.” She stepped inside, careful not to brush against an over eager udder. “Ignore him,” the deep voice continued, “he was dropped on his head as a baby, and again by me just last week.”

He stopped talking when he saw her, a plastic cup of beer in his hand frozen halfway to his mouth. It had been so long since she stopped to really notice a man, but she would have to be blind to miss him. He took up half the foyer wall, all broad shoulders and black cape.

Pointy ears covered curly white hair, and black makeup darkened the skin around his eyes under the mask. Golden irises followed her every move. High cheekbones, a straight nose and an angular jaw finished his face, and she could only assume it had been under the skirts of many of the female party guests at one time or another. It would be her luck that someone dressed as Batman, well, half dressed. He had forgone the chest piece to the costume and covered his chest with body paint, black from his thick pectorals down to the shallow pillows of his ridged abs. What an ass. A golden ass.

She gave him a nod, grateful for his assistance with his bovine friend, and sashayed into the next room where Philippa’s entrance caused a commotion. Her sorority sisters had told her Philippa was a sensation at such parties, and more than one man had tried and failed.

\------

“Who the fuck was that?” The beer still hadn’t made it to Geralt’s lips.

“I don’t know her name man, she’s a bitch, just like Philippa. Probably wouldn’t know what to do with a dick if you put one in her hand. Bro, let that one go.”

He took a long pull of the frothy drink. “But, she’s the Catwoman to my Bat.” He tipped his head, following her silhouette through the crowd.

“So what. I’m dressed like a cow, I’m not going to jump into the lap of the first bumpkin to show up in overalls.”

“You’ll jump into any warm lap that’ll take you. Show some class and be discerning.” She walked from his view and he turned back to Jaskier. “I was dreading this party, but now I’ve found a reason not to go to bed early.”

“Come on man, she’s icy cold. She’ll flop on the bed like a dead fish. I bet you eat her out and she doesn’t even blow you.”

Geralt shook his head. “There’s something different about her, and I’m going to figure out what it is.” The doorbell rang. “Get your udder in hand Mabel, the farmer’s home.” Jaskier flipped him off and answered the door.

\------

Philippa and Renfri were playing beer pong against a pair of his frat brothers, and winning handsomely. To be fair, they were using their tits as distractions, and it was working for just about every male in the room. The object of his desire stood near Philippa, cheering the girls on. Her hands were empty. He moved fluidly through the room, people moving for him without a word.

“Can I get you something to drink?” He asked over her shoulder. She jumped in surprise and didn’t bother to turn.

“The Alpha Phi Rohypnol special?” She murmured.

 _Ouch_. This kitty had claws, but he wasn’t deterred. “If my fraternity is such slime, how come you find yourself here on Halloween?”

She sighed and turned to him. Again, his breath caught when she looked up to meet his height. “I’ll be honest with you Mr. Bat, right now I think _all_ men are slime. Particularly the cheating bastard kind.” She turned back to the game and they both caught Philppa’s watchful eye.

He disappeared for just a moment, then returned, pressing an empty shot glass to her hand. She grabbed it before she realized what she was doing and he held up a bottle of vodka. “Some men aren’t like that.” He countered, pouring her a shot. “See, no roofies.” He poured himself a shot as well, clinked their glasses together and downed it.

\------

She watched him swallow the alcohol, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort. His neck was thick, and so were his shoulders. Shit, everything about the man was oversized, he had to be on steroids for some sport. “I am here,” she explained, “to have a nice time with my friends.” It was partially a lie, she really was looking for some company, but they arrived all of five minutes before. There were quite a few more _tails_ for her to meet before she decided on one or went home alone.

She tossed the vodka back and it burned all the way down her throat. He offered her another and she shook her head. She didn’t drink much, a few more of those back to back and she would be on the floor.

“What’s your name, and why haven’t I seen you here before?” He set the bottle and glasses aside, and they got shuffled closer together as the game behind them began to heat up.

“Why, I’m Selena.” She purred, he smirked. “Wild parties really aren’t my thing, but it’s a special occasion.”

“A screw-my-ex occasion. An excuse to dress like that and set the male population of the campus on end?”

For an oversized gym lunk, he was terribly perceptive. “Possibly.” She reached to run the silky fabric of his cape between her fingers. “Why on earth didn’t you dress as Hercules, or Thor? Then you’d get to carry around a big sword, or a massive hammer.” With his light hair and build, he was a natural for either costume.

“Don’t need either, it’s what’s below the batbelt that counts.” 

She saw the amusement in his eyes and forgave his stupid joke. “What’s in that belt anyway?”

He deadpanned, “Condoms, hundreds of them.” She burst out laughing and he smiled.

Suddenly a beer pong ball whipped in their direction over the crowd and hit him in the side of the neck. He put his hand to the reddening skin and Philippa shrugged. “Innocent mistake, sorry!”

Renfri appeared next to her hand took her hand, pulling her across the room. He watched her go over the tops of heads regretfully.

\------

Yennefer looked around the party, and Renfri knew what she was about.

“How are you doing baby bird, don’t look for him, he’s not worth your time.” She plopped Yennefer down on an ugly brown sofa and deposited a bowl of Chex Mix in her lap. “I saw that shot you did, have a snack kitty cat.” She sat down next to her and took a handful of the salty cereal.

“How weak am I that I still want to hurt him?” Yennefer looked at the ceiling to stop her eyes from watering.

“You dated Istredd for over three years, and you thought you’d end up together. A few weeks doesn’t seem enough time to me.” Renfri patted her knee. Not only had he cheated on Yennefer, but with a fellow Alpha Kappa, who had since been kicked out of their house. “You’re not really going to sleep with Philppa are you? It doesn’t seem like you.”

“No, well, I don’t know. Maybe men aren’t for me. I don’t want to feel this way again.”

“Girls can be just as shitty love. Give yourself some time before you commit again. Doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.” Yennefer was bloody brilliant, the most gifted person on the school’s debate team and likely on her way to becoming some high priced attorney, but her romantic history was somewhat humble.

Yennefer picked the bagel chips from the mix. “Batman’s pretty juicy. He’s funny too, but I’m sure he’s seeing someone, and I’m never going to be _that_ bitch.”

Renfri smirked. “His name’s Geralt, and he most definitely is not attached. He doesn’t attach himself, ever. He is very selective with the ladies he entertains, and he _never_ commits. Tall, blond and brooding. Leaves the parties early, thinks he’s above slumming with the rest of these pigs.”

“Ren, that’s exactly what I want. No commitment, no feelings, just a quick romp to distract me and ease a little ah, tension.”

“Awe, our little horny bird, let’s get you another shot.”

\------

“And don’t fucking come back!” Geralt’s voice boomed across the front lawn, directed at the freshman he just tossed out onto the grass.

“Yeah! Stay out!” Jaskier added, as though he had helped eject the boy. He turned to Geralt who was adjusting his costume gloves, his hands too big for the black nylon material. He grumbled, realizing he ruined some of the black paint on his torso. “Well hell-o, ab number three has joined the party.” Jaskier taunted. Geralt swirled some of the paint to cover the gap and wiped his fingers on one of Jaskier’s black spots. “Hey man, watch it, this is rented!”

“I think you forfeit that deposit when you moved the udder assembly between your legs.” He pointed out.

“I swear, no one respects an innovator until he’s dead and gone.” Jaskier mumbled. Geralt’s attention was drawn over his shoulder, and Jaskier moaned out loud when he pinpointed the distraction.

“She is bad news, brother. When the clock strikes midnight, she’ll turn right back into a pumpkin.”

“Wasn’t it Cinderella’s _carriage_ that became a pumpkin?” He kept his eyes pinned on the couch in the next room, his frat brother sitting all cozy next to Miss _Selena_.

“ _Why_ do you know that? Anyway, technicalities.” Jaskier tilted his head. “Oh look,” his voice was sugary sweet, “it looks like Chireadan took one for the team. A hundred bucks says I’ll be running to get him antibiotics in the morning.”

Geralt grunted. “She’s coming off a bad breakup, I think you’re barking up the wrong tree.” Geralt left his side to cross the room.

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t give her the _clap_!” The room got quiet suddenly and people turned to stare at Jaskier.

\------

The beer in her hand was warm, but so was the company. Half a second after Renfri left for the ladies room, one of the younger frat brothers sat down next to her and began chatting her ear off. He was nervous, and she thought that was adorable.

He had short, dark hair, and he was tall and lean, a baseball player. He talked on and on about this and that, insisting that they’d had had a class together the prior semester.

“You didn’t notice me, but I don’t blame you. You’re too pretty to pay attention to every man that looks your way.”

“That is so sweet of you, but are you sure? I don’t remember what I had Monday nights.”

Geralt approached and Chireadan moved his hand from her knee. “Selena.” He addressed her.

“I thought your name was Yennefer?” The younger man was confused.

Yennefer bit her lip and Geralt smirked. “I’m sure it is Chireadan, but she wouldn’t tell me earlier. For me, a lady of mystery, and for you an open book.” He raised his eyebrow inquisitively. It was then that Chireadan began to sense he’d stepped in the middle of something.

The crowd was getting even thicker in the house since midnight had come and gone. Their DJ was locally famous, and when he graduated they all knew he would hit it big. Geralt held his hand out, “Dance with me Yennefer?”

She gave him a confused look, “To the Monster Mash?”

Geralt tipped his head and the music faded. The first chords of Ginuwine’s _Pony_ blared from the walls and he smirked. A cheer went up and other couples flocked to stand close to the speakers and grind on each other. Like a moth to a flame she took his hand, his palm warm and strong, the beat of the sensual R&B song heavy through her body.

“Nice meeting…” She turned to address Chireadan but he was already gone. Geralt led her in front of the old home’s massive fireplace, and she began to rock her hips to the beat. The crowd pushed them in closer and she turned her back to him, swaying to the music, her costume pulling tighter across her skin.

His chin hovered at her temple, hands falling to her waist. He’d taken off his gloves and tossed them on the mantle. She tugged her own off, the temperature in the room had been rising steadily as it packed with people. She could feel his thighs, firm against the backs of hers even though all he wore was the thick tights of his costume.

She lifted her arms gracefully, the backs of her hands sliding down his neck as she bent her knees and lowered herself to the floor slowly, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts as she descended. He moved to the beat subtly, more interested in watching her move and smelling her hair then pulling any Magic Mike moves.

She leaned back against him and pressed into his arms, hidden by the rest of the couples around them. She relaxed into the feeling of being _wanted_ , one she thought might never return in the sea of rejection and feelings of worthlessness she had endured in the past weeks. The tights betrayed him and she could feel his erection against the small of her back.

She turned in his arms with a graceful swirl of her hips. The song was coming to a close, and she met his gaze, fire and lust crackling behind his eyes. She bit her lip playfully, dragging her fingers diagonally across his chest, her mark leaving bare skin as though Wolverine himself was in attendance.

He could tell the song was ending and he grew bold, slipping his hands to cup her rear, the tight pleather leaving little mystery under his fingertips. He leaned close, his cheek brushing her impossibly soft one, his bat ears tapping her own headband. She ran her palms over his arms, bulky with muscle and tense as he squeezed her derrière. Her hands slipped to his neck and he tilted his chin, chasing after her lips.

He brushed his lips over the corner of her mouth and she hummed in approval. He angled his chin, but before he could make contact, a slender arm slid over Yennefer’s ribs and pulled her back. “Come on baby, I need you for flip cup.”

“Phil, my gloves!”

Philippa waved away her protests and hauled her away, while Geralt looked at his empty hands like he didn’t know what had happened.

\------

Philippa’s game became competitive, and it wasn’t long before the play halted and she bickered with the other team, namely Jaskier. She grabbed the collar of his cow suit and pulled him close. “Listen to me carefully, you bovine blowhard.” His eyes grew wide. “Your man drank before the cup was down, we all saw it.”

Bored, Yennefer looked around the room and smiled when she saw a very tall pair of black ears weaving his way toward her. His hand appeared, and once again she took it, her ticket to freedom. She followed him, and he turned into an alcove by a large set of stairs. He kept her hand in his, “Yennefer, I –“

She leaned up on her toes in the high boots, covering his lips with hers. He was startled for just a moment before wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her close. Her lips were insistent and he met her need, the firm press of his warm mouth to hers just what she had been seeking. His tongue begged for entrance and his soft growl sent a chill up her spine when she relented.

She clutched at the silky cape on his back, fisting her hands in the soft material when he leaned forward and his thigh nudged between her legs. She pressed closer, sliding her ankle past his, her intent clear.

“Really Yennefer? I thought you knew better than that. Istredd fucked with your head _good_.” Philippa cackled, her tone morose and a bit bitter. Yennefer broke their kiss, and when he opened his eyes he could tell that the mention of what must have been her two-timing ex had dimmed the passion in her gaze. He clenched his jaw in irritation. It was one thing to defend Yennefer against him, but it was another to cut her down.

Yennefer’s boots returned to the floor and she pulled away, dark half moons of black paint from his chest on the tops of her breasts. Philippa was drunk, a little jealous, and obviously beyond the point of noticing it.

“Phil, you know I just want to let my hair down, have some fun tonight and I – “

“But _him_? The king of the toolbags? The very _leader_ of this house of apes?”

Geralt had had enough. “Slow your roll Philippa. Nobody is forcing her to do anything she doesn’t want to.”

“You’re twice her size Bigfoot, when I find you mauling her in a dark corner I’m going to step in for my friend.”

They were making a scene. Geralt rarely lost his temper, and his loud, deep voice seemed to reach far and wide. Renfri appeared behind Philippa. The pounding music faded to silence as the party goers waited for Geralt to throw down.

“Are you protecting a friend, or marking your territory for later?” He countered.

“Yennefer?” Her worst nightmare come true, Istredd separated from the crowd, Triss’s hand held firmly in his. He was shocked, she never lowered herself to come to such parties. Instead of making him jealous with her sexy outfit and confident smirk, he found her horribly embarrassed as her sex life was discussed rather loudly at the onset of what just might have been a brawl. Geralt was huge, but Philippa was fierce as hell, angry, and drunk.

Triss leveled a satisfied smile at her discomfort, her thoughts toward Yennefer vengeful after she’d been rejected by her sorority for violating their code. You didn’t steal another sister’s man, especially not one who was in a long term, committed relationship. Still she stood and judged Yennefer, her flaming red hair exotic and perfectly done up, her mermaid costume fitted and alluring. Her bountiful bust was on display, her heart shaped face and ruby red lips curled in a sneer.

“Yenna, are you alright? Is he bothering you?” Istredd’s voice made her feel sick.

He had the balls to ask about her, to pretend that he gave a flying _fuck_ about three years of her life, wasted. Geralt’s gaze met Yennefer’s. He knew, he figured out that the ex-boyfriend who betrayed her so cruelly was standing right in front of them. She read his questioning expression and did her best to convey her agreement. _Please. Yes. Save me._

Geralt played dumb. “What is it to you?” He squared his shoulders to face Istredd, his hand winding across her back.

Istredd balked, immediately sensing the threat, the unspoken challenge. Philippa’s rage toward Geralt dissipated and switched instead to the snake in their midst.

Renfri spoke up and surprised them all. “Move along limp dick, he’s gonna show her what a real orgasm feels like. Poor thing’s been faking it so many years, she forgot.” Snickers and laughs broke from the crowd, and Geralt’s DJ friend queued Yello’s _Oh Yeah_.

Even Yennefer laughed as the song penetrated her fog of panic. Geralt cleared a path through the crowd for her and guided her toward the stairs. Philippa made to go after them, but Renfri held her back. “He’s decent Phil, let her go.”

\------

Yennefer stepped up on the first stair, and he bent low to flip her over his shoulder. She burst out laughing again as he carried her up the stairs, and she watched Istredd’s shocked face as they ascended. She couldn’t resist flipping him off before he disappeared, hopefully for the rest of her life.

Geralt set her down on the landing and took her face in his hands. “Are you alright? You want me to go back down there and beat his ass?”

She smiled. “I’d give you every penny I have to see that, but no. Why would you do that for someone you just met?”

“Someone who has also been cheated on, knows what you’re going through. The redhead? He left you for her?”

She shrugged.

It was Geralt’s turn to toss his head back and laugh. “What a fucking _moron_.”

She was surprised at his easy defense of her. “Why do you say that?”

“I’ve just met you, but a man _knows_.” He tipped her chin up with his finger. “No comparison.” Her smile made something in his chest pitter patter quickly. “We don’t have to do a thing up here, I just figured we’ll let him stew in it.”

\------

“I didn’t make it clear that I was interested?” She looked down at her front, his black paint smeared over the leather suit and across her breasts.

“Bad apparel choice on my part, let’s go clean this up at least.” He offered.

His room was at the end of the hall, the master of the house, the bedroom and adjoining bath both clean and tidy. He took off his ears and mask before wetting a cloth with warm water and wiping the paint from around his eyes. He rinsed the cloth and set to cleaning off her shiny costume. He took his time when he reached her cleavage, his gentle swipes across her skin clearing the dark marks.

To his surprise she took the cloth when he was done and wiped the paint from his chest, a quick smile on her lips when she erased her _Wolverine_ mark. “Jesus Geralt, what the hell do you need these for?” She couldn’t keep her comment to herself when she realized there were another pair of chiseled abdominals beyond the six she had been ogling all night.

“Swimming. You cut through the water faster if you’re trim.” She nodded, tossing the cloth in the sink. She peeled off her own mask and headband, detached the rubber whip from her hip and slipped her hand behind the belt of his costume. “Yennefer.” He caught her arm and she froze, embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight Geralt. If you’re not into me, let me go back to the party.”

He let out a ragged sigh and squeezed the hand he pulled from the band of his boxers. “I want you Yennefer, like I have not wanted a woman in a very, _very_ long time. I have been staring at this zipper for hours,” he flicked the zipper below her breasts, “itching to pull it down and unwrap you inch by inch. But I don’t date. I don’t do long term, I know myself and I can’t commit. You deserve a boyfriend, not a fuck buddy.”

“Fine Geralt, don’t propose to me, but can you make me _feel_ for just one night?”

He was surprised that she wasn’t upset. “No hurt feelings?” He pressed. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her again, when she was already so vulnerable.

A sultry smile spread over her face and she traced the cleft of his chin with her finger. “Geralt, fuck me and forget me, because God knows I won’t remember _you_.”

Her sassy comeback was all he needed. He nodded, finally indulging himself and fingering the zipper below her breasts. He pulled it down agonizingly slow, and just as he had promised, the tension in the suit pulled the sides open wider. The zipper stopped below her navel and he slid is palm inside the material and across the band of her black panties to her hip, his gaze pinned on the bounty propped up and straining from her bra.

He leaned to kiss the swell of her breast and she hummed in approval, her hands falling to his neck. His other hand slipped inside the pleather and up her ribs to cup her through the lacy black material. He pulled back to peel the suit down her arms, and once the top hung from her waist he popped the clasp of her bra like a seasoned professional. She let it fall to the floor when he descended on her flesh like a man possessed, _beautiful_ on his lips.

She tipped her head back and dragged her black nails through his white hair, clutching him closer as he laid claim to each of her rosy nipples, pebbled and eager as though each competed for his warm mouth. He reached low to squeeze her rear, and gave the taunt material a light swat. She gasped in surprise and a shudder rolled though her frame. He ceased swirling his tongue over her nipple to mumble, “Sorry, been wanting to do that for hours.”

“Mmmhmm,” she teased, squeaking in surprise when he suddenly wrapped his arms around the back of her thighs and picked her up, carrying her back to his dark bedroom. He tossed her on the edge of the bed lightly and set to unbuckling the belt from his waist. She took a gamble, “Alexa, turn on the light.” The lamp by the bed flickered to life to reveal his smirk as he tossed the belt aside. She noticed right away why he chose to add the belt to his costume, it had been helping to hide his impressive erection, barely contained by the costume tights.

“It’s too bad, you’re too smart to be in this house on a night like tonight,” he warned playfully, returning to her hips to remove the rest of her costume. He had to wiggle off her spiked boots first, and she worked at untying the cape from around his neck.

She licked her lips, “Maybe we should leave the cape on, see if you can make me fly.”

Her left boot fell to the carpet. “That’s Superman baby, he’s a pussy.” She laughed and the cape fell away, her other boot joining it softly. He freed her legs from the rest of her costume and her skin sang, finally able to breathe. When he crawled back up her body he found her lounging comfortably, her fingertips toying in the wet trails he left over her breasts.

He groaned out loud at the image of her sprawled on his bed in just her panties, her dark, glossy hair a wild pile of curls atop his comforter. She sat up on her elbow and ran her fingers over the growing wet spot on her panties. “I’ve been wet for you since we danced,” she purred, her bare feet settling on the floor. She beckoned him closer, his eyes riveted to her every move, and she pulled him down to sit next to her. She knelt on the carpet and worked at the laces of his heavy boots, pulling his feet free as he had hers.

She tugged at the band of his costume tights, tracing her palm along the outline of him through the nylon material. He lifted his hips and shoved them down to his knees, falling heavily back to the bed when she wasted no time wrapping her warm hands over his rigid length. “ _Jesus_ ,” she murmured at the size of him. He locked his elbows and leaned back on his arms to watch her trace over the veins and ridges of his taunt skin with the pads of her fingers before wetting her lips and running them over the crown of his cock.

Her tongue darted out to capture the beads of moisture that gathered at the tip, and his groan seemed to rattle in his chest. She laved her tongue over his sensitive skin before taking him in her mouth, her movements careful to accommodate for his girth. She took him further with each slide of her lips, her hands completing her strokes as she slurped and sucked him as deep as she could.

He gathered her soft curls at the base of her neck, mesmerized by her movements. She cupped his balls on a particularly deep pass and he made a strangled sound, followed by her name on a hiss. She picked up her pace and the hand in her hair came to cradle the back of her head. He was gentle, but the other hand balled and pulled at the bedding tightly as he tried to maintain control and push off his climax. He swore and did his best not to buck against the back of her throat when she met his gaze and hummed wantonly, swirling her tongue along the underside of his cock.

A sharp cry tore from his lips and he held her close as she suckled and swallowed his pulsing length, abdominals trembling against her forearm and his eyelids clamped shut in pure pleasure. She released him gingerly after his last spasm subsided, and pulled the rest of his costume past his feet. His back dropped against the bed, broad chest heaving as though he had just completed a great physical feat.

“Come here Yennefer.” He reached for her blindly and she acquiesced, climbing on the bed and crawling up his torso to nip his chin, a smug smile on her features. He pulled her lips to his for a breathless kiss before he grabbed her sides and slid her up and over his face. He applied pressure on her hips and her knees splayed across the bed, bringing the wet spot in her panties to his nose. He tipped his chin up and licked a broad pass over the damp, lacy fabric. Yennefer whimpered.

Her surprise gave way to a decadent moan when he pushed the fabric aside and plunged his tongue against her core. She tipped her forehead to the bed and focused on his mouth, little mewls in her throat when he moved to her clit, tapping and stroking the little bud out of hiding. He ran his hands over her thighs as he feasted like a man starved, his satisfied hums and the wet sounds of his mouth filling her ears.

It felt like it had been ages since she’d been _touched_ , and the relentless petting of his tongue brought her close to the edge in record time. Thick fingers played at her entrance and she chased after him, rocking her hips against his mouth. Her breath caught when he slid his finger inside, and she nearly purred when he stroked against her, looking for that little spot that would make her sing.

He knew when he found it, her heavy wail loud in his ears. “Geralt, _another_.” He added his middle finger, but not without difficulty as she had already begun, her muscles squeezing him tightly as she pressed her hips desperately to his mouth. She hummed and panted her way down, his tongue staying with her until she dissolved into the bedding in a limp pile of pale, creamy skin.

Geralt untangled himself from her shapely legs and laid on his side next to her, pressing a kiss to the cheek that wasn’t buried in the comforter. Her fast, uneven breaths moved the curls laying across her face, and he brushed them behind her ear. She couldn’t resist, “Are you always this gentle with your random hookups?”

His expression slipped a bit. “Were you expecting me to fuck you on the floor like a wild animal?”

She ran her hand along his collarbone soothingly, she hadn’t meant to offend him. “Maybe not, but it sounds fun.”

“Be careful what you ask for little girl.” He growled the words, but his thumb traced along her cheekbone in contrast to his threat.

She gave his shoulder a push and slid on top of him, straddling his hips and skirting across his erection. He was apparently ready to go again, and if it would be anything like what she had just felt, she was more than ready. “I might be little, but I’m no one’s _little girl_.” She dragged her fingernails down his chest, leaving pinked marks in her wake. “Where’s your belt, Bruce?”

He’d tossed it across the room, so he reached a long arm backward and yanked the drawer open on his nightstand. “This what you’re looking for?”

She swiped the packet from him greedily and tore it open, shifting down his legs for a front row seat to the spectacular feature that was his cock. She rolled the thin latex over him slowly, running her palms down each side like falling water, adding pressure when the material was unfurled. He watched her behind half lidded eyes, feigning disinterest as best he could.

Finished with her task and impatient to feel him, she climbed back up and sank down on his cock in one swift motion. Geralt grunted and grabbed at her hips, dizzy from the sudden sensation of her so tight around him. She slammed her eyes shut and let out a slow, uneven breath. He began to ask if she was alright and she moved without warning, the shallow roll of her hips enough to set them both aflame.

She began to move in ernest, her palms braced on his chest and her expression twisted is pleasure as the contours of his erection stroked deep within her. He rocked upwards just a bit to meet her downward passes and she had never felt so overwhelmingly full. Gold clashed with amethyst but he let her go, watching in approval as she rode him faster, the only thoughts racing through her mind selfish and carnal.

Her fingernails dug into his skin for purchase, eyes wild and heart racing, so very close to release. She could no longer hold back her pitchy moans, and when he slid his fingers to her clit it was only a few more scattered thrusts before she lost what little control of her body she had left.

She ground her hips into his in purposeful, seeking rolls, obeying the simple need to have him as deep as possible while her muscles clenched him tightly. Profanity poured from his mouth unbeknownst to her as he willed away an unexpected finish of his own, the spectacle and feel of her almost enough to undo him. As white hot bliss seeped from her body, she tipped her head back softly and began to breathe again, disorderly tremors and shivers firing off randomly as she relaxed.

He sat up and she wrapped her legs around his hips, careful not to break their connection. He traced his hands up and down her back while her mind began to sort through her thoughts, and suddenly she realized, “Oh fuck, I screamed didn’t I.” She kept her face buried in his neck.

“Just a little bit.” His voice was soft but strained. “Hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”

 _Bullshit_ , the sound she remembered hurt her ears it was so harsh. She smiled at his effort to spare her, knowing he couldn’t see it. She leaned back in his lap and he palmed her breast. “Show me what you’ve got Batman, fuck me and forget me.”

He shook his head slightly at her phrasing, but rolled her on her back all the same. He paused a quick moment to kiss her before pulling out and ramming his hips home. “ _Oof_ ,” she squirmed under him some, still sensitive, but urged him on nonetheless. He tangled one hand in her hair and braced himself on the other, hers clung low on his hips and reached to grab handfuls of his muscular behind.

She gave his left glute a hefty smack, a smirk on her face as she teased his earlier words, “I’ve been waiting all night to do that Mr. Wayne.”

He thrust harder in retaliation, but instead of the intended effect, it only served to push him closer and pulled a sultry moan from her lips. “Mmmmm,” she hummed against his throat, her tongue darting to lick his Adam’s apple as it rocked by. The wooden bed frame began to tap against the trim on the wall with the insistent snaps of his hips.

“Come with me Yennefer,” he ground out, clenching his jaw, tiny beads of perspiration gathering on his brow. It seemed like every muscle in his body worked in tandem to bury himself as deep as possible, over and over the impact of his pelvis against hers in a rhythm as old as time itself.

As the pressure built between her legs, _again_ , she suddenly realized three things: The music had died down at the party below them, the students were cheering and heckling, and she was moaning... _loudly_. She slid one of her hands from the damp skin of his back up to the back of his head, expecting to find his gloating smirk. Instead she found only feral need in his eyes and no comprehension of anything outside their bodies.

He pulled all the way out unexpectedly and she protested, but he leaned over her to grab the two pillows from the head of the bed and slide them under the small of her back. He knelt on his knees and slid home to their unified groans of pleasure. “Geralt!” His name on her lips coaxed him on and he lifted one of her knees up and over his shoulder.

The new angle had him dragging deliciously against her walls and she clasped her hands over his on her hips. She squeezed harder and he thrust faster, losing himself in pleasure when she bucked against him and clamped down tight.

“Oh, _fucking_ , shit!” Geralt was gone, unable to slow the cascade of his climax as he twitched and pulsed until there was nothing left of him to give.

Her back returned to the bed and her shaking subsided, her hand falling to his hair when he slumped down on his side next to her. “I’ll be right back, you need anything?”

Her eyelids were half closed when he asked, and the last thing she remembered was the slide of the pillows from underneath her.

———

She was gone. Geralt sat up quickly, searching through the sheets next to him as though she could possibly be hiding under them. Midday sun poured through the two big windows in his room and he stood up, fumbling through his drawer for a pair of boxers. He knew she slept the night with him, he’d woken at four am, wrapped around her like a pretzel. He only hoped he wasn’t too far behind her.

He hustled down the stairs to find his frat brothers already cleaning the carnage from their tables and furniture.

“She’s gone Geralt, finally, like a black cloud of heinous bitchery from this place!” Jaskier held a black garbage bag and scooped empty and half full cups into it with a grimace.

“You’re projecting Philippa’s attitude onto her unfairly. How long ago?”

“Over an hour, she’s long gone and so are you. I remembered where I heard her name before! She’s dean Vengerberg’s baby princess, and you’re probably expelled.”

“How would he even find out?” He gripped the railing at the base of the stairs, pissed he’d lost her.

“Um, Romeo, we _all_ heard you giving it good to that little pussycat. She was howling like a bitch in heat and her ex put his fist through the foyer wall.” He pointed to the gaping hole in the wall nonchalantly. “You’re fixing that dude.”

“Stop being such an ass Jaksier, she didn’t do anything to you. Did she leave alone? How far is their house?”

“Renfri came sniffing around after her. She left wearing your swim jacket, so it’s kinda like you got robbed by a hooker.” He chuckled at his own analogy and resumed picking through the menagerie of garbage that littered the floor.

Geralt cursed and went back up to his room. Her costume was still in a pile on his bathroom floor, but he imagined she couldn’t have put it back on by herself anyway. He didn’t care about the jacket, but for some reason he felt unsettled, like there was something desperately unsaid between them.

He noticed one of his textbooks was laid open, and he smirked when he found her sharpie written message, bold across the dedication of his four hundred dollar textbook.

_Thanks for the romp Batman, just what this kitty needed. <3_

Her father didn’t scare him and he gave fuck all about the coat, but somehow he knew he wasn’t done with her. Unlike the few flings he entertained, it bothered him to no end that he never got her number.

Jaskier’s whine carried up the stairs. “Are you gonna put some pants on and come help us or what bro?!”

Geralt barked back as he reread her message, “I’m a senior, I don’t have to do shit.”

“Please? There’s a mysterious stain here that I don’t know if I’m equipped to handle.”

“Fine, but you owe me.” He pulled on a pair of sweatpants. “I need you to ask around and get me a phone number.”

“Oh no, hell no. Nope!” Jaskier’s protests fell on deaf ears as he planned what he would text her first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I’ve used Batman before, many times, but damn I could not resist! Don’t know anything about frats or sororities, or USC.


	6. Mayville, North Dakota - The Farm II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Rated E

They spent the entire weekend holed up in her room, dressing only to tend the animals. Midday sun poured through the lacy curtains that hung over her window, and painted an intricate design over the golden skin of his back. She laid on her back, his body wrapped around hers as he slept. His face was pressed into the side of her breast, a peaceful expression on his handsome face. His feet hung off the bottom of the mattress, unbothered by the frilly purple bedding of her youth.

She traced the tattoo on his bicep, an intricately penned cattle skull, adorned with roses and vines in remembrance of his parents. He bore the marks of a lifetime of hard work, scars telling of cuts and scrapes and punctures from this implement or that. Her own pale skin was relatively unmarred, but the palms of her hands were already beginning to show the few days of working alongside him.

She was exhausted, but blissfully so. She needed to clean the mud from the hallway and do laundry in the worst way, but she knew they needed groceries as well. She didn’t want to steal all of her grandmother’s home cooked meals, she would need them when she returned home. “Geralt?” She whispered, combing his shock white hair behind his ear.

He stirred, and thick lashes opened to realize where he was. He smiled and covered her nipple with his mouth, his “good morning” one of action rather than words. She breathed his name and shifted her legs, heat sparking deep in her belly. She could feel his erection against her thigh and she wondered, not for the first time, _how_ he could go again. He was thirty something, not some sixteen year old boy. Her boyfriends past had gone once or twice and been down for the count, not that she was complaining now.

“Geralt,” he hummed to let her know he was listening, but he didn’t let up on his tender attack. “Groceries,” his hand swept low on her belly and she shivered, “we need to go get them.”

He released her breast with a flourish of his tongue, and perked up to respond, his hand venturing between her legs. “I’m not hungry, got all I need right here.” His thumb found her clit and two fingers traced along her folds.

She already knew the look in his eyes. “I don’t think I can.”

“You _can_ , then we’ll go shopping.”

It was embarrassing how fast she gave in, her body trusting him to see her through. Her knee relaxed to the side and gave him more room to kiss his way down her abdomen and replace his thumb with his mouth. She battled the urge to draw him in and trap him between her thighs forever, so sweet and skilled was his tongue.

She ran her hands through her own curls, twisting in the sheets and palming her breasts, her skin still wet and lamenting his departure. He slid two fingers inside and matched the pace of his mouth, focused intently on keeping his promise. She mewled and rolled under the strong arm across her belly, her palms finding the wooden spindles of her headboard and clinging for dear life.

She sank back down to the sheets, her lungs greedy for air as though she’d run a long distance. He trailed wet kisses to the flare of her hip and leaned back to appreciate the full picture she painted, the pink flush of her pale skin and the blissful look on her face. “Let me get the tub in the master filling for you and I’ll hop in the shower downstairs. I’ll take a look around and see if you’ll need anything else for when he comes tomorrow.”

“Alright, but what about you?” She reached for his erection and he caught her hand.

“The store closes in five hours, there’s no time.”

She laughed, but not without thinking that he could definitely make those five hours fly right by if they weren’t careful. He leaned to kiss her before heading for the door, unbothered to walk around the house stark naked. “Hey, how do you know she has a tub?”

“Leaked a few years ago,” he called from the hallway, “had to come over with a shark bite clamp and a different set of wrenches than what she’s got.”

Of course, of course he’d been the one to fix the tub. Her gran had been holding out on her for far too long.

\------

The next morning a knock on her door proved to be Chireadan, ready to work for the next few days. Geralt didn’t bother to hide himself, the man knew his truck, and he was a decent guy – he wouldn’t say anything to anyone. Geralt went home while Chireadan worked with her, and she missed him immediately. He was nice enough, but he wasn’t the quick wit and unbearably handsome man she craved.

Geralt came back and spent every night with her, and when the next weekend rolled around he drove her to see his place. She wanted to meet his dogs and see the backdrop for his stories, the land he’d put his heart and soul in. Her fingers threaded through his as they drove, and she stole glances at him as the wind from his open window blew his hair wild. She’d learned to braid her own down her back, making tasks in the barn so much easier, but he would not be tamed.

The song changed and the twang of an upbeat country song filled the truck. She pulled her hand from his to cover her ears and howl dramatically, “Ooooo, my ears! It’s agony!”

He laughed, deep and sincere, leaning forward to change the station. “There you go poor thing, don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya.” The speaker in the door jumped against his leg when Notorious B.I.G.’s _Hypnotize_ blared and she sang along, gyrating in her seat. He scoffed playfully, “ _City_ girls.”

“Geralt, this is as classic as Mozart or Garth whoever you like.” His smile didn’t stop him from watching her move, appreciating the lean lines of her body and the graceful curves outlined by her jeans and hidden by her hoodie.

They drove another few minutes and he pulled down the dirt driveway toward the house, cows everywhere it seemed, on both sides of the truck. He explained how many animals he had, including four horses, two dogs and a handful of ducks and chickens. She climbed down from the truck and took in a deep breath. In relation to her gran’s, his farm was massive. It was no wonder he had two live-in hands.

“Ger!” A thin man with sandy blond hair approached the truck and Geralt came around to the passenger side. “You bring lunch man? We’re starved.”

“Actually,” she spoke up, “I did.” She introduced herself and met Jaskier. Coën approached, shook her hand and carried the crock pot in for her. He was younger and almost twice the size of Jaskier.

She barely had time to cook anything in her tiny kitchen in New York, but leafing through her gran’s recipe books in the kitchen that held so many memories, she gave it a shot. She’d made her gran’s famous beef stew, but to be fair, Geralt had helped her. He couldn’t keep his hands off of her long enough to let her alone in the kitchen. He cut the beef while she sliced the vegetables, and the moment she turned the pot on he bent her over the counter and set her to flying.

The dogs realized he was home and tore across the yard to jump and bark excitedly. She followed him through the house, taking in the cozy feel and the photos on the mantle. He must have been around ten in one, his mother’s arm around him lovingly while they dropped seeds in the ground and his father drove the tractor they rode on. Her own parents couldn’t stand to be in the same room for as long as she could remember.

They sat down to eat in Geralt’s kitchen and Coën wolfed down the food like a man starved. Jaskier dug in a bit less trustingly, chewing thoughtfully. “I’m thinking you could improve it with a few bay leaves. Have you tried a Montreal seasoning before?”

It was her gran’s recipe, she hadn’t thought to add anything else to the mixture. Coën smacked him upside the head for her. He whined but was ignored, Coën added, “It’s real good.” He held his bowl out for seconds, and she filled it gratefully. Geralt smirked from the other side of the table. She liked Coën, he was sweet, and she wondered if he had a girlfriend. If they’d been upset he had been spending so much time away, neither made mention of it.

Geralt took her around the farm on horseback after lunch, pointing out a small creek that ran through the property, and the back half of what he owned rolled in big, grassy hills. They rode slowly, her back relaxed against his chest, and strong arms holding her secure on the saddle. She turned up to look at him. “Your home is beautiful Geralt. I can see why you work so hard to preserve it.”

She searched his gaze before he lowered his nose to hers. “ _You’re_ beautiful, Yennefer.”

“Ass kisser.” She murmured under her breath.

“I would.”

She laughed and he tried to memorize the image, the sound from her lips. They rode back at the same leisurely pace, her body a tight fit to his and their hands intertwined with the horse’s reins on her belly. The house came into view and suddenly she had to ask, “Why Geralt? Why me?”

A week ago he wouldn’t have been able to explain it. It had been something mysterious, her beauty in and out, that she’d been willing to upheave her life and fly across the country for her grandmother. But now he had more words than he knew what to do with. She was sassy and stubborn, kind and thoughtful, and smarter than one person had a right to be, in his opinion. She was beautiful in her own stunning way, uninhibited when they made love, and someone he never wanted to lose. He’d up and fallen in love with her, and it would be only a matter of weeks before she flew back across the country and out of his life.

 _I don’t want you to go._ The words were on the edge of his tongue, but he knew they were unfair.

“When I saw you struggling with that dog food, I could barely think straight. I’d never seen a woman so beautiful in my life.” It was more, so much more, but he couldn’t tell her the rest without talking about her leaving, and he just wasn’t ready to.

She hesitated a beat before she responded, “Thank God Mayville is a small town or we never would have met.”

She didn’t know what she expected him to say, but his words were a good reality check for her. She was a fling, and so was he. She had a job and friends to get back to, and they hadn’t exactly discussed the terms of their tryst. He was kind and helpful, she needed help. They were both consenting, unattached adults who had the hots for each other. Simple as the stitch in her grandmother’s knitting.

They returned to the barns and she helped him brush the horse down, saying her hello and likely her goodbye to big old Zeus in the same afternoon. Her gran was doing well in rehab, stubborn and determined to return home as soon as possible. Guilt flooded her at the thought that she would have more time with him if Calanthe wasn’t so driven. She pursed her lips, angry at herself for thinking like a hormone driven teen.

“I’m going to take my laptop inside and work for a few hours?”

“Sure, I’m going to drive out with Coën to one of the farther fields, call me if you need anything.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple.

“What’s your wifi password?” She turned in his arms.

“Nothing, no password.” He smiled.

“Right.” There was no one for ten miles to steal his internet signal. She leaned to give him a kiss, but pulled away when footsteps approached from outside the barn.

“Coën’s leaving, you going Ger?” Jaskier stopped short when he saw her. “Oh, I’ve been burned.” He covered his eyes and walked backwards dramatically, “Asses and tities everywhere, must cleanse my corneas!” 

She cringed. It was no wonder Coën was quick to hit him. “Tell me he’s good with the cattle at least.” 

“He is.” Geralt bent to kiss her, not letting her walk away until he was satisfied he would make it a few hours without her.

———

He found her up in his bedroom hours later, nestled in the window seat adjacent his bed. She bent over her laptop at what looked like an uncomfortable angle, pens tucked behind each ear and a notebook full of hastily scrawled phrases by her folded feet. The internet speed wasn’t the strongest in the more rural parts of town, and he wasn’t surprised that she’d followed the signal up to his room and worked right above his router.

Her expression brightened when she looked up and saw him enter, but her smile fell when she saw the pain in his eyes. “Oh my god, what happened?” She shoved the laptop and notebook aside and met him in the middle of the room, his shoulders at a funny angle.

“It’s nothing, minor miscommunication between me and the nasty bull I bought last year. I should have eaten the bastard over the winter. It’ll rub out, I just need to get some heat on it.”

She tsked, “It doesn’t look like nothing. Can I try?”

He shrugged and winced again. She unbuttoned his shirt skillfully, having grown accustomed to the quick row of little fasteners over the last week. She ushered him to sit on the floor in front of the window seat, it’s shallow height perfect for her to sit on behind him and equalize the differences in their heights. The pull in his shoulder was so dramatic that she could already see the muscle swell and begin to knot up.

She worked her thumbs in small, but firm circles over the wide expanse of muscle under her fingertips. She could tell when the pain began to ease, he leaned back against her legs with a soft groan. She bent her lips to his ear, working her hands to encompass the breadth of his back, moistening her lips and teasing them over the shell of his ear.

“Yennefer.” The low timbre of his voice sent chills up her spine and heightened the dull throb between her legs that began the moment his shirt came off.

He twisted and pulled her chin to his, sealing his lips over hers on his hands and knees. He reached up on the seat and slid her closer, working the button of her fly. She pulled her tongue from his mouth and he followed her retreat. “Geralt, you’re hurt.”

“It’s fine now, your hands are magic, baby.” Big palms slid her off the cushion and eased her jeans past her hips and down her legs. He stood and she undid his belt frantically, his mouth on her neck distracting her from his zipper. Finally she freed him from the confines of the tight material and slipped down the front of his chest, combing her fingertips through the light mat of hair on her way down.

She sat back on the sill and wrapped her hands around his length, licking broad passes over his warm skin. He sighed her name when she swirled her tongue and gathered her hair gently in one hand when she took him in her mouth. He watched her every motion, the nuances she added to vary her movements, and the almost desperate way she grabbed at the back of his thighs.

His knees began to feel unsteady and he cupped her cheek, “Come here Yennefer.” His voice was husky and low. She pulled back enough to place kisses along his slick length before standing to allow him to capture her swollen, rosy lips between his. Somewhere between the window and the bed his jeans bunched on the floor and her top joined them.

Her legs tangled with his and she fell back against the soft bedding, a wild look in her eyes. He pulled her hips flush with his own and she gasped when she felt him heavy against her core. She gave a ragged moan when he filled her, the angle of his cock taking her breath. His fingers pressed into the soft skin of her hips, and she sank into the mattress, watching the adoration on his face.

He began with a steady pace, curling her leg until he eased her calf against his shoulder. His next thrust went particularly deep and she cried out, reaching blindly for his hands. He paused for a moment to reach behind her and unclasp her bra, tossing it over his shoulder with a wicked grin. He rocked against her body faster and with more force, her desperate murmuring only fueling the movement of his hips, driving them both toward the edge of bliss.

She threaded her fingers through his on her hip, her other hand laid over her abdomen as he reached deeper than she thought possible. He mouthed at the delicate bone structure of her ankle and buried his groans in her soft skin. He ran his hand up and down her leg as he rocked into her, his rough hand teasing her inner thigh, and when he found her clit she almost immediately spasmed around him.

Her lusty wail echoed from the walls and was likely heard outside the open window as she shook like a live wire through his thrusts. She came with such intensity that he was forced to slow his movements, the tight hug of her inner muscles more than he could bear. He let her leg relax around him and spilled himself with deep, purposeful strokes, her name on his lips.

He sagged forward on his elbows and she pulled him close, bringing her lips to his sweaty temple as they both fought for breath. She returned to the knotted muscle in his shoulder and rubbed languid patterns while he laid open mouthed kisses across her collarbone.

He propped his head up and she thought she would never forget the way his eyes seemed to twinkle with affection. “I came up to ask you if you wanted to go to dinner.”

“Can I think about it? I don’t usually go on dates with any old stranger you know.” She clenched her pelvic muscles around him to demonstrate the irony in her statement and he buried his smile between her breasts.

\------

Calanthe’s dryer was broken. Yennefer cursed, handfuls of wet sheets in her palms. It ran, it rumbled to life as soon as she pressed the button, but there wasn’t an ounce of heat in the tub. She looked behind her and out the window, the clothes line taunting her.

She dragged the heavy bin of wet sheets out the door and through the lawn, the fall breeze certain to dry them. She cursed the height of the ropes, her gran taller than she, and swore at the little wooden clips that seemed to pop off just to annoy her. The next load was full of their clothes, the long legs of Geralt’s jeans heavy with water.

“Isn’t this a domestic scene.”

She jumped a foot in the air, she hadn’t heard him come up behind her. “Jesus,” she put her hand to her racing heart, “you scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry.” Geralt wiped his greasy hands on his jeans. “Where’s the rest? The little purple panties with the bow-“

She put her fingers to his mouth.

“ _Those_ , are private.”

He gave her a wolfish grin. “Her dryer on the fritz?” She nodded. “Let me wash the motor oil off my hands and I’ll take a look.”

“What’s the going rate for a handyman around here? You helped Chireadan with the tractor and now the dryer.” She wondered out loud.

“I’m sure we can come to some sort of…deal.” He nuzzled his face against her neck, her curls contained in a messy bun.

“I’ll check in gran’s bank book and see what’s fair.”

“Ah, what I had in mind won’t be in there.” She could feel his smile against her skin.

———

She went to see her grandmother every few days, and by the end of the third week of her stay, Geralt went with her. He held open the door to Calanthe’s room, and she perked right up in her chair when she saw them. “Yennefer, Geralt! Finally, someone with a brain for me to visit with!” Yennefer bent to give her a hug, and Geralt nodded his greeting.

“I’m telling you dear, some of these people,” she lowered her voice, “are not the brightest bulbs. Look at this,” she pulled up her pant legs, “they’ve got me in two different colored socks!”

Yennefer had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “Well you’re not out on the town just yet, so it’s not really hurting anything.” She tried to soothe her ire.

“It’s bullshit!”

“Gran, gran,” she held out her hand, “let me find you a lovely matching pair.” Yennefer rustled through the drawers by her bed.

“Geralt,” she set upon him next, “Chireadan tells me he’s fenced in three new fields since I’ve been in here. He reports that the animals are cared for and practically everything is done before he gets there in the morning.” Yennefer froze. “Just how much time are you spending at my place young man?”

“Only the time I choose to. I find it a refreshing change of pace from the daily grind at home.”

Yennefer found an acceptable pair of matching socks and knelt to put them on her feet. “Son, I’m a bit parched, could you ask the girls for some juice? Anything but apple, please.” Without a word, Yennefer shook her head almost imperceptibly, knowing he would wait to see if she wished for some as well.

“Gran,” she finished with the socks, “you could thank him for what he’s done for us.”

Calanthe’s tone dropped. “I could drag him behind my truck a few miles, I think that’ll do it.”

Yennefer gasped in confusion.

“He’s sleeping with you.” Calanthe hissed the words and Yennefer swallowed slowly. “I can tell, the dopey smiles on your faces, and the way he looked at you. He is taking advantage of my sweet granddaughter because I’ve left her alone and in a vulnerable position. Tell me I’m wrong baby.”

There was no point lying to her, she had already figured it out without a word. “We are close friends, but if anything, _I’m_ taking advantage of him. He’s been so kind, and expects nothing in return.” She paused. “Weren’t you the one telling me he was available?”

“I did, I thought maybe you’d have a little fun flirting with him, maybe have him over for supper. Someone you could ask for help besides Chireadan. I never thought you’d _start_ something with him baby, you’ve got to go home soon.”

Yennefer bit her lip. “You think less of me now?”

“Of course not. Come here and give me a hug this instant.” Yennefer obeyed, and Calanthe’s strength surprised her yet again. “I love you, and I always will.” She kissed Yennefer on the cheek. “Geralt is a good boy, but won’t it sting when you’ve got to go? I don’t think either of you are the ‘one night stand’ type.”

“We haven’t talked about it.” She sat at the foot of Calanthe’s bed. “But I might have applied for an editing position in Fargo.”

Geralt returned to Yennefer and the shock on Calanthe’s face. “Everything alright?” He handed her the juice. Her grandmother’s shock morphed into a wicked grin.

“Yes, quite alright. Better than I expected.” She took a hearty gulp of juice. “I want to thank you for helping out on my farm Geralt, it’s nice to know I’ve got neighbors I can count on.”

They talked for a while longer and Yennefer stood and gathered her purse. They made their goodbyes, and before they closed the door behind them she called out, “Whatever tricks you’ve got up your sleeve Rivia, however it is you’ve got my farm running like clockwork, I’ll expect you to do the same for me once I’m healed!”

He agreed, and her uncontrollable laughter followed them down the hall. He stopped them to give her a quick kiss, Calanthe’s laughter still echoing when they parted. Realization sparked in his eyes, “She knows, doesn’t she?”

“Oh yeah.” She whispered.

———

After four weeks of rehab and recovery, Calanthe was allowed to come home. Her strong will and determination had her moving around almost as well as before her fall, and Yennefer knew it was time she went back to the city. Her neighbor had been watering her one lonely plant for long enough.

She hugged and kissed her grandmother farewell, having made sure Chireadan would check in on her everyday for the first few weeks. Her bags in the trunk of the cab, she took a last, longing look at the place she’d called home for nearly a month. The driver pulled down the drive past the fence where Achilles and Briseis chased after them, and she put her palm against the glass when Calanthe’s wildly waving frame faded from view.

She dug through her purse for a tissue, and instead pulling out the sandwich her gran had insisted she eat before she got to the airport. She smiled, and unwrapped the precise folds in the wax paper. A yellow post-it note fluttered to her lap, and she read what Calanthe had penned: _Tell him you love him, it’s not too late_.

She went to crinkle the note, but stopped, instead repacking the sandwich just as it had come. She meant well, but she just couldn’t force herself to eat it. Thinking of him made her stomach feel uneasy, her chest hollow.

He hadn’t asked her to stay. She waited for him to approach the subject of her leaving, and he simply never had. They’d carried on as nothing was changing right up to the prior night, when he’d almost killed himself scaling a rotted old trellis to sneak into her room through the window, as though they were kids.

They made love soft and slow, and the way he looked at her, she could swear he wanted to say _more_ than just how beautiful she was. In the end he’d held her close and wished her safe travels, reminding her that if she ever needed anything, he would come running. He left in the early morning hours when he thought she was asleep, kissing the corner of her lips and walking out of her life.

Yennefer steeled herself, straightening her chin and facing directly forward. She’d gotten over men before with surprisingly little effort, and he would be no different. The airport was over an hour away, and she busied herself by making plans with friends for the next week. They would keep her busy in case he happened to cross her mind.

When her cab arrived, the driver helped her unload her bags and she made her way to the ticket counter to check her suitcase. She pulled out her phone to scan her ticket, and saw that he’d texted her. It was a photo of Achilles and Briseis on her bed, and his message read: _They’re not the only ones missing you. Had to come adjust the dryer, too warm for gran. Be safe beautiful._

Why must he torture her so? Hadn’t she done him a favor by just letting him off the hook and leaving town? One of a hundred sassy responses sat at the edge of her fingertips, but something told her that a cutting remark would do no good. It wouldn’t make him love her, and it would do less to make her feel better.

She tried again to access her ticket for the clerk, and her gran’s message appearing next: _He’s hurting baby, I’ve never seen him so quiet. Only telling you so you can take comfort in the fact that you meant something to him. Someday I hope you’ll look back and think fondly on this visit. Love you to the moon and back sweetie._

The clerk tapped her fingertips impatiently. “Miss?”

‘Oh no, don’t do it Yennefer.’ She closed her eyes and her inner voice, the one laden with logic, began to panic. ‘Get on that plane and show that prick what he’s missing!’

“I’m so sorry, but I won’t be flying today. Have a nice day.” Yennefer turned on her heel and made a beeline for the line of cabs outside. They were all taken, every last one. She rushed to the desk in the lobby, her suitcase clattering along behind her. “I need to rent a car please.”

———

Dainty hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as Yennefer left the airport in her rear view mirror, and headed back to her gran’s. She had to ask him. She just had to make sure that she wasn’t making a mistake, thinking he wasn’t interested in anything with her.

Her phone chirped away directions, and she swore when she missed her turn. She pulled over quickly and turned around, her mind on nothing but what he might say in response. Red lights flashed behind her and she looked in her mirror. _Son of a bitch_.

Yennefer pulled over and rolled down her window, her license and documents in her hand. The sheriff took his time before sauntering over to the driver’s side.

“Do you know why I pulled you over, Miss…Tuirseach?” He looked through her documentation critically.

“No sir, I absolutely do not.” She went from tapping her hands on the wheel to tapping her foot beyond his view.

“I’ll enlighten you. Maybe in _New York_ the speed limit is optional, and they allow reckless u-turns in the middle of the road. Not here young lady.”

“Reckless? There isn’t another soul for miles! I’m going to have to say I don’t think that’s fair.”

He narrowed his eyes and leaned closer to see her bags, tossed in the back seat. “Please step out of the vehicle ma’am.”

“Please sir, I don’t mean any disrespect, but I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“ _Now.”_

\------

She had to call Calanthe to come get her. The sun went down outside the tiny window in the small holding cell, the entire station something out of an old time movie. The Sheriff’s office featured a whopping two cells with actual bars on them, nothing like the walled in plexiglass of the government buildings in the city. The pompous _ass_ sat with his feet up at his desk, shoveling down burgers with both hands.

She sat on the wooden bench alone, hands wrapped around herself to ward off the chill in the room. She wondered how many drunk people had sat right where she did, or men with bloodied knuckles and nothing to lose. It’d been over an hour since her call, and the sound of the man chewing was making her want to shove the rest of the burger down his throat and save them all a lot of grief.

She was starting to worry about Calanthe, hoping to God she hadn’t fallen in her haste to rescue her. The front door of the small building opened and she breathed a sigh of relief, until she heard Geralt’s deep voice.

“Hey Emmett, heard you’ve got Chireadan on a drunk and disorderly? Calanthe sent me down to bail him out.”

“Hey, Geralt!” He dragged his dirty boots from the desk to shake Geralt’s hand. “Naw, just a city drifter with an attitude. Calanthe must’ve gotten mixed up, the poor old lady.”

Yennefer wanted to die of mortification. After she threatened great bodily harm on her _poor old_ , meddling gran. She stood from the bench and stepped into the moonlight that beamed through the window.

“Yennefer?” He was beyond confused. “I thought you’d be halfway to New York by now?” He was frozen to his spot on the floor, his expression a swirl of emotions that she wasn’t sure were wholly good or bad.

“I was. I went to the airport, but I couldn’t go, I – “

He saw the way she shivered and magically his legs worked again. He recognized her purse and her coat in a pile on the sheriff’s desk and grabbed it. “Come here.” She walked toward the bars and he put his arms through, wrapping the coat around her and rubbing his hands over her arms.

“You know this walking lip Ger?” They both ignored him.

“Geralt,” she grabbed his hand before he pulled back. “I know you didn’t ask me to stay, but I just had to know if you thought there was anything between us?”

He took her other hand in his. “I would never ask you to give up your life, just to stay in this little town with me. You worked and studied hard to get to New York, and I care about you too much to take that from you.”His thumbs ran circles over the top of her hands.

“How much, do you care?” She took a deep breath, hoping she was right.

He leaned against the bars, and his forehead came down to rest against hers. “Hardly at all. I love you Yennefer…enough to sentence myself to a life of what-ifs, just to make sure you got back to your dream. Even if I wasn’t in it.”

Their lips hovered over one another’s, and when she spoke, his heart stopped altogether. “You’re in my dream, Geralt. I don’t know when it happened, but at some point I realized, you _are_ my dream.” She barely got the words out before his lips pressed to hers. She leaned against the bars and wrapped her arms up his back tightly.

“Ahem.” The deputy’s not so subtle cough disrupted their blissful embrace. Geralt pulled back reluctantly, nuzzling his face to hers for a moment before his tone turned business like.

“Emmett, what is she charged with?”

“A whole list of things, that one. Speeding, reckless driving, and _sass_.”

Geralt’s gaze never left hers. “How reckless?”

“An unlucky u-turn, there wasn’t a soul around, it _wasn’t_ reckless.” She couldn’t help but emphasize her innocence.

He turned, but kept her hand in his. “You pulled her over because of the out-of-state plate, didn’t you? Let her go Emmett.”

“I like you Rivia, but you’re not my boss.”

“No,” a confident voice came from the door Geralt had used to enter, “but I am. If he says she’s alright, pull her out of there for Christ’s sake, Emmett.” The deputy huffed, and Geralt moved aside so he could unlock the cell.

Sheriff Vesemir had been a long time friend of Geralt’s father, and if his parents hadn’t passed, Geralt would have finished the police training academy and been twice the deputy his own son had turned out to be. Vesemir crossed the room with long strides, pulling Geralt into a quick hug.

“I haven’t seen you in ages son, not since you and Eskel managed to crash those quads playing chicken like assholes.”

“I won.” Geralt shrugged unapologetically.

Vesemir shook his head, “I hope the broken arm was worth it.” Emmett took his time gathering her belongings. “Who’s this young lady, not from around here?”

Geralt introduced her as his girlfriend and her heart sang. She raised her brow but relaxed into his arms, an embrace she thought she might never again feel. Geralt savored the familiar smell of her hair, her frame slight against his, but no less comforting and safe.

“Well isn’t that wonderful. Welcome to Mayville sweetie, officially this time.” Vesemir gave Emmett an irritated glance. “Let me see this paperwork.” He took Emmett’s write up and Yennefer’s statement to read them quickly.

Vesemir laughed out loud when he read her hand written statement. Emmett perked up, “See, this is what I’m talking about. I can’t even read what she wrote.”

Vesemir shook his head, “It’s in French son, and you don’t want to know what it says.” He turned to Geralt and Yennefer. “He had your rental towed, am I assuming I can have them drive it out to the airport tomorrow?”

Geralt would take her home. “Thank you Vesemir.”

“Be careful on the roads young lady, I’d hate to see Mayville lose it’s newest gem.” He winked.

“I will sir, thank you.” She nodded gratefully, taking her purse from his hands. Vesemir pulled her suitcase from under the desk and handed it Geralt. Emmett huffed in disbelief.

“You can file charges if she does it again son,” Vesemir offered, embarrassed by his pouty expression. “I think she was in a bit of a hurry today, and wholly distracted. She’ll be extra careful.” Geralt and Yennefer walked to the door, and it closed heavily behind them.

Before her feet left the last step he spun her in his arms and hauled her close, her bag hitting the pavement and his face filling her vision. “You came back.” He was still processing what had happened.

“I did.” She played at the strands of hair that fell against his shoulder. Moths circled the street light above them, his truck illuminated underneath.

“What about your job, your friends...your life?”

“I’ve a few friends there, but I worked so much I was barely able to see them.” He ran his hands over her back, greedy to hold what he thought was lost. “I didn’t tell you, we never really talked about it, but I have an offer in Fargo. They were so impressed with my experience that it’s even more money than what I’m making now. Less hours, flexibility to work from home.”

He searched her face. “City life. You’ll resent me for taking the shops and bustle and replacing them with a Target and quiet.”

She smiled softly. “When you and I are together, things are rarely quiet.” The corner of his mouth picked up in a grin. “I like Target, where do you think I bought those little purple panties you like so much -“

He couldn’t wait any longer to kiss her again.

———

He brought her hand to his lips as the speaker on her phone rang out loud. They were close to his farm, and she had almost forgotten to call her grandmother.

“Yennefer? Did Geralt arrive to help you? I’ve been waiting by the phone.” She sounded like she had been asleep.

“I’m sorry gran, I’m alright. The sheriff came and let me go, we’re going to his house for the night, it was closer.”

“What happened? Did you tell him that you love him? Life is too short to mince words dear.”

Geralt spoke up, “She did. I told her I was stupid to let her go.”

They could both practically hear the grin on her face. “You were both stupid, how about that? I suppose it doesn’t matter, so long as it means I’ll get to see my granddaughter more often than every ten years.”

“You will gran, we haven’t talked about where I’ll stay or anything yet.” Geralt mouthed, _with me_ , and she smiled.

“Of course you haven’t talked. What is it that has you two so constantly busy that you never have time to share a word?!” Geralt smirked and Yennefer didn’t know what to say. Calanthe answered her own question. “Oh, well right. The burdens of being young people. Call me in the morning Yennefer, you can come over and learn how to make my meatloaf, seeing as I’ve none left.”

It was Geralt’s turn to look sheepish.

Yennefer ignored her barb, knowing she was teasing them. “I will gran, love you.”

“See, those are easy words. I love you too baby.” There was a brief pause, “Geralt? You get my granddaughter pregnant and the next phrase from your lips better be _Mrs. Rivia,_ is that understood?”

Yennefer slapped her free hand over her eyes.

Geralt was unbothered. “Yes ma’am, easiest promise I’ve ever made.”


	7. Los Angeles, California - The Frat II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Happy Thanksgiving! (There’s no plot here, just smut - a complete mockery of the reason for the holiday. Not as mushy as my normal either, bit more physical for these kids.) Rated: E.

It would be Yennefer’s first Thanksgiving as a single woman in quite a few years, but she didn’t mind spending the holiday alone. She and a few of her sorority sisters planned to stay on campus for the break, and volunteer their time at a local soup kitchen. They’d completed midterms, and afterwards they were looking to blow off some steam.

She rolled up her black leggings and adjusted the gauzy, blush colored skirt that fell to her knees. A tight fitting black sweater and black knee high boots completed her outfit. She would be comfortable to stand for a long period of time, serving the food they had donated the week before. 

She walked to the foyer and was met by Renfri, her heavy boots and deep maroon jeans letting everyone know that she would not be bested by some bread cubes and an overgrown bird. Philippa was glamorous as always, her gauzy mustard shirt and hazelnut leggings accented with a warm copper belt. 

“Let’s roll out ladies!” Philippa shouted up to the last few girls. She looked at Yennefer and smiled, “You better braid all that hair outta your face girl, Alpha Kaps are too chic for hairnets.” 

———-

The staff at the soup kitchen was grateful for their help, and anxious to hand over the serving duties to the girls and head home to spend the night before the holiday with their families. Yennefer walked to a pretty hunter green apron, laid over the table next to two pans of stuffing, flames keeping them warm from beneath. 

“Will be we able to keep up with the line?” She asked one of the older ladies as they bundled their coats and scarves. “There are twice as many aprons as people.”

Before she finished her question, the door to the kitchen behind them opened, and Jaskier’s mindless chatter filled the small dining room. “Oh, _hell_ no.” Philippa was livid. 

The woman smiled sweetly, “There’s the rest of your help girls.” 

Yennefer froze, her hands halfway around her back to tie the apron. She smelled his cologne before she heard his voice. “Here, let me.” Warm hands took the ties from her, cinching them in a knot at the small of her back and tracing around her trim waist as though he was checking the fit. 

She hadn’t seen him since Halloween, but she would know that voice and those hands anywhere. She would never tell him that, of course, but it was no less true. It would be a lie to say she hadn’t thought of their encounter often...nightly. She had gone so far as to borrow a _toy_ from Philippa, her slender fingers unable to recreate the cascade of pleasure he’d given her. He moved to stand next to her, her grabbing the apron in front of him and tossing it over his head. 

Philippa was still complaining, and demanding Jaskier and the rest of them leave. “You hens aren’t the only turkey show in town!” He argued.

Philippa leaned close to him and bared her teeth, “What is it with you and farm animals, you horny toad? Thank god we’re not volunteering at a petting zoo, I’d be worried about the safety of the animals around you.” 

Jaskier doubled down, “You’re just pissed because every man within a five mile radius of you would rather fuck a goat.”

Renfri stepped in and tried to separate them, but Geralt and Yennefer might as well have been miles away. She looked down at his thick boots, they probably weighed a ton.

He could smell her shampoo, and it seemed that was all it took to snug the front of his jeans. They’d barely said a word to each other, but still, each was fighting their own inner battle.

He peeked under the foil to see that he was positioned to serve the turkey, and he rolled up his sleeves.

Her knees nearly went weak when the tanned skin of his muscular forearms fell into her field of vision. The moment she got the courage to look up at him, he rallied himself and spoke. “How’d midterms go for you?”

A few days after they met, he did end up getting her phone number, but time had passed and he decided he was better off leaving things alone. He told her he didn’t date, how much of a douchebag would he look if he started texting her the next week? He kept himself busy, but he thought of her. In the morning when he woke up hard, in the shower, hand wrapped around himself. He could still hear her cries and feel her nails on his chest if he closed his eyes and concentrated. 

Here she was by coincidence, in the flesh, all soft skirts and loosely braided curls. When she looked up to answer his question, he drowned in a sea of purple so deep he never wanted to float to the surface. 

“They were terrible actually, but I think I’ve managed to salvage my GPA with some - “ Jaskier walked by and interrupted her. 

“Some extra credit bjs? Some pussy from the teacher’s pet? Some lovin’ for the letter?”

Before Geralt could shut him up, Yennefer whipped one of the spatulas across his upper arm. Renfri smirked and Philippa gave a loud, slow clap.

“ _Bitch_.” He hissed, rubbing his arm and standing on Geralt’s other side. 

“Jaskier, I’ll serve the turkey. Why don’t you take the peas.” Geralt pointed down the line. 

“Oh come on man! Just because you want to stare at Morticia’s tits, you’re leaving me to work by the bride of Satan!” He trudged back down by Philippa, who stirred the pan of mashed potatoes in front of her thoughtfully. 

She turned and threatened him with a bright smile. “If you don’t shut up and peddle those peas, I’m going to put a scoop of these potatoes down the front of your pants, and the entire school is going to call you _tater nuts_ , from now until the end of time.” 

The dining room door opened and patrons began to file in for their meal. Renfri got in one last jab before they neared. “Best leave those two alone, we’ve already heard how good he gives the _meat_ and she gets _stuffed_.”

Geralt’s shoulder shook with silent laughter as he laid turkey on an older man’s plate. Yennefer added the stuffing with a smile, the color high on her cheeks not due to the hot food before her. They served individuals and families, young and old. Some wore hats or coats that indicated they were veterans, and it broke her heart. 

One particularly feisty old man gave Geralt’s arm a shove and asked for a larger helping. “I’ll take some more of that bird, son. Those muscles for show? Put your back into it.” Geralt obliged and he leaned closer, hinting toward Yennefer. “The scenery has improved greatly since lunch, eh?”

“Can’t argue with you there sir.” Geralt nodded, and he moved on to Yennefer’s station. 

“Happy Thanksgiving.” Yennefer gave him a generous helping of the stuffing with a smile and he beamed. 

“I knew you were my dream girl the moment I walked in.” He was an old horn dog, but he was a cutie. Half the size of Geralt, his back was bowed from a hard life. His eyes twinkled and he clutched at her hand. “I’m alone in life princess, my wife’s long passed. Can a lonely old man get a kiss?”

She hesitated, but couldn’t find a reason why she shouldn’t. She leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. He smirked at Geralt when she pulled away, the shadow of her tinted lip gloss on his cheek. “Thanks sweetie, you made an old man’s day.” 

\------

An hour into the service, Yennefer had excused herself to use to ladies room. She caught Chireadan folding holiday linen napkins and stuffing them with silverware on her way back to the dining room. She stepped into the work room and said hello, and he almost shrugged her off. Confused, she pressed on. “I just wanted to tell you that I remembered, you _were_ in my class that night. I just didn’t put two and two together on Halloween I guess.” 

He nodded and kept folding. 

“Are you upset with me?” What did he have to be pissed about, she barely knew the guy. He was nice, but maybe Halloween had been a fluke. 

“Upset? No, I’d just rather stay away from trouble.”

Now she was getting irritated. She put her hand on her hip. “How am I trouble?”

He huffed and stopped with the linen. “Look, you’re a nice girl, but I don’t want to be seen talking to you.” Before she could overreact, he clarified. “It’s Geralt, no one wants to tangle with him.” 

“Tangle?” 

“I mean, you’re _his_.” 

Her gaze darkened. “Let me assure you, I’m _no one’s_.” She was still adjusting to being on her own, and _how dare he_ intimidate people from talking to her. She turned on her heel and marched into the dining room. The line had slowed, and he was talking with Renfri about some sports team. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but Geralt, can I see you in private for a minute?” She grated her teeth at the confused look on his face. She would not fall into his harem of adoring female fans. He got his way within his frat and his friends, but not with her. 

He followed her down the hall, and Chireadan fled the supply room as though his shoes were on fire. Geralt watched him go with a strange look. “Yennefer,” he started, but she cut him off. 

“Are you telling people that they need to stay away from me? That you have some hold over me?” 

He would have thought she was joking if she didn’t look so upset. “Whoa, what are you talking about?” 

“Or is it that I’m some damaged goods? Sloppy seconds?”

“Holy shit, no. What’s going on? Who told you that?” He reached to look into her eyes and she swatted his hand away. 

“We’re _nothing_.” 

“Fine, fine, we’re nothing.” He put his hands up in surrender. “Jesus Christ, I thought we had a good time.” Maybe it was the shots, the alcohol that made her so amenable to him on Halloween. Jaskier had warned him of her sharp attitude. 

“I thought so too, but apparently you can’t just leave it at that. Philippa was right, you’re just as big a chauvinistic pig as the rest.” She nearly spat the words. She was disappointed in him. 

“Hold on a god damned minute. I didn’t say shit, to anyone about you. But now I’m starting to think Jaskier was right. You’re blowing nothing way out of proportion, and I don’t have to stand here and listen to this. Screw off Yennefer.” He turned to walk back in the dining room. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you.” She hissed.

He froze and pivoted, bringing his face inches from hers. “Screwing you?” His gaze followed hers as she swallowed hard, her breathing harsh in her anger. His nostrils flared, her sweet perfume filling his lungs. “Unfortunately I’m sure I would. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the last time I did it.” 

Her eyes lit with surprise, and he continued. “I even got your phone number, but you asked for no strings, and I tried to respect your wishes. If I’d known you’d give me so little credit, maybe I would have used it.” He ran his tongue over his lip, his breath fanning over her mouth. “Those long, stressful nights of studying could have been resolved with a simple _booty call_ , instead of my fucking hand.” 

She smirked, pouncing on the weakness he admitted. “It’s unfortunate for you, that you can be so easily replaced with a set of AA batteries.” She was lying, her efforts had been just as fruitless in mimicking the pleasure he gave her, but he didn’t have to know that. 

Something occurred to him quickly, “Philippa?” His tone was a mix of disbelief and intrigue. Philippa had been pursuing her hard at the party, had she given in to her advances?

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Her husky whisper sent a chill down his spine. Geralt hadn’t said anything to anyone, Chireadan was just intimidated by him. He wanted to reach out to her, but he didn’t, thinking it was what she wanted. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.” 

It wasn’t an apology, but it was more than he expected. He nodded, the movement brushing his nose to hers. “Give me a chance to change your mind?” Whether she found comfort with Philippa or not, he cared what she thought of him. He wanted her to know he was decent, and he wanted her to crave him in the same desperate, unexplainable way he wanted her. 

Little did he know, she already did. Yennefer tipped her chin and brushed her lips to his. He remained frozen, but his tongue darted out to taste the shiny gloss she left on his lips. She tried again, and this time he responded, the firm pressure of his mouth sweet against hers. 

She nipped at his lower lip and smirked, she had him. She rested her hands on his chest, remembering the impressive splay of musculature that resided underneath his polo shirt and humble apron. A low rumble vibrated under her hands at her tease, and she hummed in response against his lips. “Yennef- “

“Yes, I want to.” 

Warm hands slid around her waist and began undoing the knot he’d put in her apron strings. Yennefer evaded his apron all together, pushed it aside to palm him through his jeans. His groan echoed in the hallway, and they remembered how exposed they were at the same time. The ties of her apron fell away and he cupped and squeezed her rear through her soft, thin leggings. 

He shuffled her into the supply room Chireadan had abandoned, and closed the door behind them. He lifted the back of her thighs until the seam of her leggings met the fly of his jeans and she wrapped her legs around him. She dragged her teeth along his jaw before attacking his neck with wet kisses. He looked over her shoulder into the room, spying a table with a few folded tablecloths. 

He walked her over and deposited her on the soft cloth, pulling away long enough to pull the apron over her head and toss it on the floor. He palmed the flair of her hips and pushed against her, eliciting her deep moan against his neck. Running his hands up and under her sweater, he massaged the plain cotton cups of her bra. When he unfastened the clasp Yennefer sighed with relief and she trembled when he drew circles over her nipples. 

She helped him pull off the sweater and bra, and she went for his apron while she was at it. His lips covered her breast and she arched into his mouth, running her fingers through his curly white hair. He began to suck and twist her tender skin and desire pooled between her thighs. His hand was halfway down her belly under her leggings when he bit her. She nearly came, murmuring desperate swears over his head. 

He soothed the pink mark on her skin with his tongue, the small print a stark contrast to her pale skin. Yennefer was out of breath even though she hadn’t left the table. “Are you leaving that for her to find?” Her voice was soft and thready. 

He only hummed, switching to her other breast, his touch agonizingly gentle in contrast. He licked his way to her navel. “You like it rough Yennefer?” 

“Yes.” His gaze tore from hers when she pulled at the back of his shirt and he tugged it off, once again admiring his work on the wet, goose flesh of her chest. Geralt worked the fly of his jeans and she stood, unzipping her long boots and kicking them off. He pulled out his wallet and she dropped to her knees, pulling aside the band on his boxers to meet the impressive cock she knew she’d find. 

She wrapped her lips over him immediately and he faltered, gripping the leather hard in his hand and weaving his other across the back of her scalp. The hair tie holding her braid slipped to the floor and her curls unwound to tickle the insides of his thighs. He braced his knees and took deep breaths as her hand slid over the veins and ridges of his shaft opposite her mouth. She moaned, slurping at him messily and increasing the pressure of her gentle torture. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned, pushing against her shoulder gently. She released him reluctantly, cupping his balls as though she would convince him to let her finish. 

He took her arms and helped her stand, rolling her panties and leggings down as she went. He turned her around and bent her over the table gently, crinkling the wrapper from his wallet. He reached between her legs and couldn’t hold back his bark of laughter at how wet she was. “Yeah, dick doesn’t do _anything_ for you, does it?”

She tried to turn and give him hell, but he slid the head of his cock through her folds and she gasped, gripping the edge of the table as he pushed inside, inch by glorious inch until the hard planes of his abdominals pressed against the small of her back. 

He was breathing heavy against her back, his chest hair tickling her skin and he peppered wet kisses over her shoulder blades. “Alright?”

She balled up the ivory tablecloth underneath her hands tried to push against his hips, squeezing him and urging him to move. He slid back, his height and the thick boots allowing him the leverage to thrust back inside her to the hilt without moving his lips from her neck. 

His thrusts were met with moans and coos that she tried to keep quiet, but his weight on her was too sweet, and the drag of the cloth on her over-sensitized nipples too delicious for her to temper. “It’s Thanksgiving,” he grunted, “what are you thankful for?”

“Mmmmm,” another snap of his hips, “family, _oh_ , friends.” 

“No Yennefer, be honest.” He rocked her against the table, both hands gripping her hips.

“I’m, _Jesus_ , I’m thankful for your big, _ah_ , hard cock.” She fought the admission, but she was hardly in a place to deny her words. 

He hummed in approval and the tips of her toes left the floor with the force of his hips. “ _Yes_!” She cried when he bottomed out inside her, and he reached a long arm to cover her mouth. She moaned freely under his hand as her climax crashed through her body. She twitched and shook and he buried his face against her neck, beginning to lose his control as she clenched around him tightly. 

He reached over the edge of the table between her legs just as he lost it, snapping his hips hard and muffling his shaky groan into her skin. His fingers on her neglected clit and the dig of his zipper propelled her into another climax before the first had fully ebbed. She seized again, her triumphant shout caught in his hand as she chased his rolling movements. 

Yennefer collapsed atop the linens and he released her mouth to brace his arms on either side of her. He kept with his slowing, purposeful thrusts and she thought she would be happy if he never stopped. Sloppy kisses and teeth made their way down her heaving spine as she struggled to control her breathing. Regrettably he pulled away, but instead of leaving her to clean himself up, he rolled her on her back gently and bent over between her legs. 

“Shhhhhhh,” he shushed her when his cautious touch arched her back from the table. His tongue swiped over her clit and down to clean the slick from her warm skin. He teased his tongue at her entrance and she huffed. 

“Yennefer, what are you thankful for?”

She knew his game now. “I’m thankful for your fingers.” Her grin melted when her focus turned to the fingertip dancing at her opening. 

“How many fingers thankful?” His voice was low and raspy, winding around her like warmth from a fireplace. 

She sat up on her elbows to watch him, “Two fingers of, - _oh_.” The requested digits curled and stroked high inside her in an instant. She lifted her legs to rest them on his back, and tried to commit the image of him on his knees pleasuring her to memory. Who knew if she’d ever see him again after that night? 

It was only a coincidence that gave her the tendrils of heat curling between her legs as it was. And a bit of his ego, thinking Philippa had replaced him in her mind. She would stroke his ego as much as he wanted if he would keep stroking _her_.

His tongue was magic and she dug her heels into his back, urging him closer. The lewd, wet sounds of his fingers and the flick of his tongue filled her ears and threatened to overwhelm her. She sat up on the table, running her nails over his scalp. 

“Ah, ah, _ah_!” She pulled him close, bowing her head, dark curls hiding the pleasure frozen on her face. Her toes curled and her cry broke as she jerked and twisted in time with his hand. He took pity on her and slowed, standing to let her crumble into his arms. 

She caught her breath against his cheek, her arms wrapped around his broad back. “You’re such a jerk,” she whispered. 

He grunted. “You still want to fuck Philippa?” He leaned back to watch her face.

“Well,” she laughed, “not tonight.” 

His brow furrowed. 

“Why does that bother you?” She asked, curious. 

He didn’t have an answer.

———

They hurried to clean up the supply room, balling up the top layer of linens and tossing them in with another pile of dirty napkins. She hastily braided her hair while he retied her apron. Yennefer walked down the hall, dressed again and prepared to deny what had just happened, while he snuck into the men’s room to clean up. 

Renfri raised her eyebrows and gave her a knowing smile. Yennefer could see that they were cleaning up the serving line, new patrons no longer coming through the doors. She walked up next to Philippa, who was wiping down one of the tables. “I’m sorry, I didn’t do my part.” 

Philippa smirked, “It’s fine doll, it died down right after you and Fabio disappeared. The rest of the apes are going to finish cleaning up, ready to head out?” She leveled a menacing look toward Jaskier, lest he challenge her right to leave first.

Yennefer agreed, following her to the coat rack, and giving a look back just before they walked outside. She didn’t see him. It was just as well. Renfri closed the door behind them, shouting, “Blackout Wednesday, here we come!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: “Tater Nuts” is borrowed from That 70s Show :D This is the most posh soup kitchen ever, they have linen for holidays hehe. I know the holidays are out of the ordinary this year, but I hope you’re all able to spend some time with those you care about!
> 
> I hope for one final installment in this "holiday" series, for Christmas. :D


	8. Austin, Texas - The Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Just a Drabble. Rated T.

“We think it started in the kitchens, and spread east through the school.” Geralt’s lieutenant filled him in on how they came to be standing in front of a roaring fire that was decimating a small preschool as they spoke. Sirens blared in the distance as other companies responded to the call, and paramedics arrived on scene.

The owner had assured Eskel that all her students and faculty were accounted for, the children taking sanctuary in a large church across the street as the fireman pumped hundreds of gallons of water up and into the flames. Geralt’s crew joined Eskel’s, Lambert and Jaskier unrolled another hose and tapped the nearest hydrant.

The owner of the school looked on in shock as her livelihood burned to ashes. “Ma’am, I’m Captain Rivia, and I know this is a horrible shock but I’d like to review your staffing and student sheets one last time before parents arrive and try to take their children home.”

The pretty redhead gave him her clipboard with a shaky nod. Geralt sifted through her paperwork quickly, the afternoon sun quickly fading behind his back. “What’s this Friday only sheet?” He held up the paper to spark her memory quickly.

“Oh, that’s a special program we run once a week for the children. We have an art teacher come and work with the kids.”

“There’s no checkmark next to this woman’s name. It’s Friday.”

The information hit the woman all at once and she gasped, turning quickly to the children and teachers behind her. “Miss Vengerberg, has anyone seen Miss V!?” She scoured the children frantically.

The staff was puzzled, and one little boy raised his hand. “Yes, Jarrod?”

“Miss V. walked me to the door when the alarm was loud, but she went back for carrots.”

Geralt was confused.

“Carrots, Jesus Christ!” The children startled at her language, but the owner clarified, “The art room has a class pet, a rabbit they call Carrots. Oh my god, she’s still in there.” Immediately she launched into a panic attack that Geralt didn’t have time for.

Geralt shouted for Eskel and he appeared with the blueprints for the building. “Ma’am, which of these rooms is the art room?” He zipped up his coat and threw on his heavy helmet. One of the other teachers helped him, pointing to a small room almost adjacent to the cafeteria. It was his turn to swear in front of the kids.

Eskel checked his Scott pack for it’s oxygen level and put on his own helmet. Geralt stopped him and spoke in a low tone. “No, it’s been too long. It’s a recovery, not a rescue. Give me Lambert, he needs the practice.”

The children watched both men snap on their masks and could hear the air woosh through their equipment. The teachers huddled them back into the church, some crying and others fascinated. The owner was on her knees, sobbing, loudly blaming herself and Geralt wasn’t quick to disagree with her.

They moved rapidly even with their heavy gear, and stepped into the billowing smoke that poured from the entrance. Geralt couldn't see shit, and neither could Lambert behind him, but he’d looked hard at the blueprints and it wasn’t long before they found the room. Fire had collapsed the shared wall with the cafeteria, and the room was filled with harsh black smoke.

Geralt walked past the threshold blindly, swinging his flashlight wide. He didn’t bother to call out, knowing that if the woman was in there, she was certainly deceased. A toppled over metal file cabinet blocked his path, and when he bent to move it, he saw the shoe that laid just underneath.

He motioned Lambert over, they’d found the body. The heat from the fire was beginning to penetrate through the thick layers of their gear, and he quickened their pace. Lambert shoved a tableto walk around the cabinet, and his radio crackled to life in surprise, “Fuck Geralt, she’s reaching for me, she’s alive!”

Quickly Geralt set down his axe and they each took a side of the heavy furniture, walking it over and off of her leg. Her calf was in terrible shape, likely broken and her skin burned by the super heated metal. Geralt knelt on one knee next to her for a moment, but the smoke was so thick he couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not. 

He pulled his mouthpiece anyway, forcing it past her lips. He felt her draw breath through the tank and mentally cheered. Lambert picked up their axe and Geralt the woman. She was light as a feather, her body slack against his chest. They left the room and he took the mouth piece from her for a quick breath and returned it to her pale lips.

Lambert led the way back out the front door, and Geralt didn’t hear a sound of the cheers and shouts that greeted them. He didn’t have the patience for the paramedics, they would take at least a full minute to get across the lot, and he laid her in the grass not far from the sidewalk.

“Is she!?” The daycare’s owner approached and a policeman pulled her back.

Geralt slipped off his helmet and pulled off the rest of his mask. Finally he could see her clearly, and he could tell her breathing was shallow, even with his oxygen in her mouth. She’d pulled her sweater over her face in the fire, clever girl, he thought, straightening the soft garment to give her modesty.

She was covered in soot, but her lashes fluttered and she tried to open her eyes, likely driven by the pain in her leg and lungs. “Let them stay closed, they’ll only burn until you get to the docs.” She seemed to comprehend his words and she relaxed, her hand reaching for his face blindly before her palm found his cheek and she _did_ cry out in pain.

He rolled her hand over to see her palms were blistered and raw, likely from her attempts to get out from underneath the hot cabinet. It was a miracle she was alive at all.

The paramedics descended on them and began working on her fastidiously. Geralt told them what he knew, his voice cracking from the smoke he inhaled to give her his line. His radio lit up and he could hear them call for the helicopter, they were going to try and save her foot. He sat on the grass taking deep breaths, divesting himself of equipment one piece at a time.

He would _not_ lash out at the building owner for leaving her to die. Three men worked on her lower body, and one handed him back his equipment, giving her fresh oxygen from their tank. They cut her sweater off anyway to check for damage, and then loaded her onto a backboard. The movement on her leg prompted an agonized moan, and they gave her a shot of morphine.

The pain had also forced her eyes open, and he stared at her. She certainly wasn’t the first beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and not the first he’d rescued, but he was mesmerized by her. Her blue eyes were so deep that they were purple, and they were fixed on him. He focused back on their clear beauty as though she spoke to him.

He watched as the effects of the morphine took over slowly, clouding them and unfocusing her gaze from his. The four men lifted her easily and she was gone, leaving him staring at the remains of her sweater in the damp grass, joined only by a small black shoe. They would transport her to a safe place for the chopper, so the blades didn’t fan the flames.

The moment she disappeared he felt the effects of his time inside the building, and he began coughing for all he was worth. Lambert returned for him and they walked toward the remaining ambulance together. “You gave her too much man.” Referring to his own oxygen mask.

“She needed it, she’s alive.”

“For now, she was in there so long, and her leg. Her chances aren’t great. You’ll have to spend the night in the hospital on the tank.”

“No I won’t, I’m fine.”

An authoritative voice interrupted them as they neared the rig. “You’ll do what the docs recommend, because I say you will.” If it didn’t sting to groan, Geralt would have.

Lambert straightened. “Good run tonight young man, you followed protocol and got yourself out in one piece.”

“Thank you, chief” The lights from the ambulance reflected the on gold plaques on his pressed white shirt. Lambert turned to rejoin the efforts to put out the last of the blaze.

“I didn’t make you Captain so you could do fool things like give your line to a woman barely alive to begin with.” Vesemir didn’t like the way he coughed, and nodded for one of the paramedics to check him.

“You didn’t make me Captain dad, I earned it. I made a call in the field. If you think it was wrong, issue me a citation like you would any other commander down the line.” He took a deep breath for the paramedic and even _he_ could hear it was ragged. _Fuck_ , he would be headed to sick bay.

“If that woman lives, I hope she understands that you saved her life.” Vesemir shook his head.

“I did my job.”

“You did something stupid, that you haven’t done since you were seventeen. If you collapsed in there, Lambert would have had to pull you out. You’re not a little boy any more Geralt, I doubt he could have done it alone.”

“If I go with them, can we agree that I violated protocol, and I won’t be doing it again soon. Can we just leave it? I’m sorry.”

“You’re not sorry, you’re my son and you’d do it again in a heartbeat.” He held his hands up to stop Geralt’s swear. “Fine, I want an update later tonight or I’ll call the docs myself.” Geralt nodded. “You’ll be coming over for Christmas Eve tomorrow? Your mother is counting on it.”

Leave it to his father to guilt him into attending a family function. This one he had already intended on showing up to, so there was little risk. He agreed. “There’s only three pounds of shrimp cocktail, so you’d better get there early before your brother cleans the platter.” He was serious, and Geralt let out a choked laugh before allowing the paramedic to slide an oxygen tube in his nose.

———

“Thanks,” he looked at his nurse’s name tag, “R. Blaviken.” He smiled when his nurse handed him an inhaler to take home with him.

“It’s Renfri.” Her name was accompanied with a soft smile. She checked his blood pressure again, and got a fresh reading on his blood oxygen level. “I heard you were quite the hero tonight.” She prodded gently and he didn’t blame her for being curious. It wasn’t the first time a hospital staff member subtly pried about an incident he responded to.

“Not quite, routine work. It’s a miracle she was alive when we found her. Any way you can tell me if she made it here? I know, HIPPA and all, but –“

“She made it. If she’d gone a minute more without oxygen, she would have brain damage. You saved her life.” She rolled her cart close to his bed and typed in his updated statistics. “Before you ask me what room she’s in, I’ll tell you. She’s headed for a bed in ICU once they finish the surgery on her leg. She deserves a chance to thank you, and I’m not going to be the one who stops you from hearing it.” 

\------

Geralt went back to the fire house when he was released from the hospital, showered, took care of his equipment, and wrote up his version of the incident report. If his father wanted to make trouble for him due to his unorthodox methods, he would have to file it officially. Geralt knew he wouldn’t, Vesemir was just pissed that Geralt had put himself in danger.

He shouldn’t be surprised, he and his younger brother Eskel had been born and raised into a family of firemen, and putting themselves in harm’s way was second nature. Vesemir’s brother Vilgefortz had been killed responding to a call in an Austin high rise the prior year, and ever since then his father had been downright ornery whenever one of them was less than careful.

Geralt checked his phone, and at two am he took a few puffs from the inhaler the nurse had given him for good measure and slept for a few hours in their bunkhouse. Jaskier was on overnight and was blessedly quieter than he normally was after one of their more exciting calls.

\------

When Geralt woke five or six hours later he checked the station schedule and scoffed to see his father had overwritten his plans and had taken him off his shifts for the next few days. The word “rest” sat under his name until after Christmas. Geralt shook his head, but he had to admit that it would be nice to have a day or two off. 

The firehouse was his life, it’s members his family and it’s success and safety his highest priorty, which left little time for a personal life. Or so that’s what he told himself when his mother set to nagging him about finding a nice companion and settling down. At thirty-two he argued with her that he had time for that later, but each year his side of the conversation held less and less weight.

He headed back to the hospital, beyond curious about the woman from the night before. He stopped in the lobby where a flower vendor had set up, and he stood looking at the display. He felt stupid showing up with nothing, so he purchased a small bouquet of white lilies and lilacs. Who knew if she would like them, but they’d certainly smell better than smoke and melting plastics.

Geralt entered the ICU lobby, dressed in his spare clothes from the firehouse, a pair of clean jeans and a light green button down shirt. An older nurse noticed him waiting, and he explained the reason for his visit. “If you would be able to get me on her visitor’s list, I’m sure there’s a lot of family all trying to get in there at the same time.” He offered.

“Sir, you’re the first one who’s come for her. The poor thing’s emergency contact is her mother, and we found last night she passed away six months ago. I can’t find any other family for her. Yennefer is my patient, and I’m glad you stopped by, even for only a few moments. Follow me.” 

Geralt was stunned, not expecting the woman’s news. She led him into her room, the one wall all glass so the nurses could keep an eye on her. _Yennefer_. It was a name unlike any he’d heard, but somehow it seemed to fit her. A unique name for a unique pair of eyes he couldn’t seem to forget.

Yennefer slept while she checked one ofthe monitors and turned to him. “She slept for quite a while this morning, I imagine she’ll be awake soon if you have a few minutes to wait. Her surgery went well, and they think that she’ll be able to keep her foot. They’re not positive, but she may very well regain full use of it - so if she asks, you can be encouraging. My name is Nenneke, just press this button if you need me.” She pulled a vase from a cupboard and put it on the small table by the bed and patted him on the arm as she left.

He slid the flowers in the narrow glass piece and sat down next to her bed gingerly. The poor woman had been left behind at the school, and again at the hospital. He took in her condition carefully, and tried to guestimate how long she’d be in the hospital. She had a bruise on her temple, likely from her fall when the cabinet pitched over her.

Her palms were bandaged, but her fingertips were intact and poking from the gauze. The same ones that had danced across his jaw so tenderly the night before. Her calf was another story, heavily bandaged and encompassed by a metal cage, he knew her battle there would be a long one.

He brought his gaze back up to her face, and she was watching him. Golden hazel locked with deep amethyst and he floated. No longer aware of the chair under his legs, or her blanket under his palm, he knew only a sea of purple.

Her raspy voice jolted him back into the room. “Thank you.” She whispered the small phrase and paid the price, coughing for her efforts.

He grabbed the cup next to her bed and directed the straw to her lips, no longer pale like they’d been when he shoved his mouthpiece past them. She took a few sips gratefully, and her chest ceased it’s dramatic heaving. “Rivia…” this time her throat didn’t catch. “Your helmet.” She offered.

He nodded, “G. RIVIA” was emblazoned on the front of his helmet, and she’d remembered. “My name’s Geralt.” He smiled, and a moment later the monitor over her shoulder chirped it’s disapproval at her held breath. 

She let it go, and the machine quieted. “Sorry…handsome.” She shrugged her shoulder as though her reaction was beyond her control.

He blushed, a feeling he hadn’t felt in the longest time settling over his body. She was beautiful, but he hadn’t allowed himself to process that, only that she needed his help. Now as he sat beside her, he slowly took her in, from her thick lashes down to the grey nail polish on her dainty foot. He knew her body was light and trim, he’d barely noticed her weight when he carried her, even with all his gear.

How was she here alone? He couldn’t fathom. The woman had the patience to deal with toddlers, where was her husband and her own children?

\------

“Is there anyone I can call for you?”

He wasn’t the first to ask her, and she knew he wouldn’t be the last. She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head to the negative. Her mother had been her best friend, her confidant, and her greatest support. When Yennefer was two, her father’s temper turned violent and her mother bravely packed up her baby and left. They had little as Yennefer grew, but they had had each other. 

Cancer took her suddenly the prior year, and Yennefer was left to navigate adulthood on her own. She had friends, her very best a brilliant writer name Sabrina, but she had her own husband and children to care for. Yennefer would have to deal with her injuries on her own, a manner in which she was not unfamiliar with. Her cat would miss her, but he was smart enough to slip from her apartment window and steal from her neighbor’s fat heifer of an animal. He would be aright until she returned.

She saw the pity in his brilliant eyes the same way it had been in the nurses’s, and she wanted to give in and cry when she saw it. “’s alright.” She rubbed the back of her hand against his. “Thank you, the flowers.”

He brushed off her thanks as if she should have expected any visitors to come with something as beautiful. Yennefer wondered if it was the painkillers clouding her judgment, or if he was truly as handsome as he looked from her position on the flat hospital pillow. When she woke that morning, she fully expected not to see a soul other than her nurse for the next week. Sabrina would eventually track her down, but there was no reason to worry her a moment longer than necessary. 

“The children?” She kept her words few to spare her sore throat.

“The owner of the daycare hasn’t been in to see you yet?” He acted as though he knew more than he revealed, but he answered her. “They’re all safe and sound. The rabbit didn’t make it, but not for lack of heroic effort.”

His tone wasn’t one of judgment and she was grateful. The fire alarm had barely gone off when she returned for the little animal’s cage. The janitorial staff had struggled cleaning around her cabinet, and when they moved it, set the legs off kilter. It had toppled over and fallen on her before the smoke even breached her classroom. She’d called for help, but no one came. Until he had.

“Thank you, for coming.” He was probably a busy man, everyone had places to be and commitments to see through. She thought to let him go, giving him a segue into taking his leave if he had a mind to. Instead, he pulled the bulky hospital chair closer to the side of her bed and struck up a conversation with her.

“So tell me, what were your little Picasso’s up to earlier in the day, before all this chaos broke out?”

\------

Her smile was worth every cough, and all the grief his father had given him. He couldn’t leave her. Something pulled in his chest when he pictured himself cozy in his parent’s home for the holiday while she laid alone and in pain.

They talked for a long time, his answers more elaborate than hers as they tried to preserve her strength, and her nurse came back to check on her. “Oh, you’re still here.” The nurse was surprised to see him, but no less impressed. “Visiting hours are limited, but since you slept well this morning, I can’t see why he can’t stay.” She addressed Geralt, “I’ll ask you to step out for just a few moments while I check a few things?”

Geralt nodded, “Sure.” His hand felt cold when he stood, and he realized that it had come to rest against hers at some point. He ducked out into the lobby and swore to himself when he saw the time on his phone, and four missed calls from his father. He dialed and waited for the explosion.

“I’m not mad son, but where the _fuck_ are you? Your mother is beside herself.” Geralt could hear Tissaia fussing in the background, “Is that Geralt?!”. 

“I’m at the hospital dad, I’m fine, but I’m not going to make it tonight. I’ll come by tomorrow and bring your gifts, I’m sorry.”

Tissaia wrestled the phone from Vesemir and Geralt looked heavenward, picturing the scene. “Geralt, are you alright? Don’t you dare lie to me.”

“I’m fine. I’m visiting the woman from the call last night.”

She sounded hurt. “You’re abandoning your family for some stranger?”

Geralt knew they weren’t lonely. Eskel’s family was entertainment in itself, his wife Essi and their triplets were enough to keep four adults more than busy. He looked back toward the ICU doors. “She’s alone mom. All alone.”

He could tell she was thinking about his words. “I suppose Christmas is a time for kindness. I’ll hold some shrimp back for you, but I expect to see your face some time tomorrow.”

“Yes mom, will do.”

\------

Nenneke was transitioning off of her shift for the night, but she promised to inform the nurse of Geralt’s extra privileges, leaving with a wink. Geralt settled back in his chair, and realized the nurse had adjusted her bed so she was partially sitting up.

“It’s Christmas Eve.” She whispered. Nenneke must have reminded her while he was out. “Your family…your wife?”

“No wife. My family can live without me for one day.”

She tore her gaze from his and stared hard into the fluorescent lighting in the hallway. He could tell she wanted to protest, and he got the strong feeling that she was used to making decisions and handling problems on her own.

“Thank you.” She had said as much to him so many times that day, but this was the only instance that was accompanied by moisture in the corners of her eyes. She had been terribly brave, and he knew anyone would have a hard time hearing that they may never regain the use of their leg.

She hadn’t cursed her fate or whined and felt sorry for herself, but took the events as they came, and he wondered if this was only one of many disappointments she had shouldered in her life. More puzzling, his interest in all of it, and the urge to make thing better for her.

He felt like she deserved so much more, but God, he barely knew her. He supposed it didn’t matter. She needed him, and he genuinely wanted to be there.

“So, what kind of background does an art teacher have, to be blessed with the patience to work with toddlers?”

She swallowed hard, but he knew she appreciated the distraction.

———

The sun had risen and shone brightly through the solitary window in her room. The nurse had been in an left, working around the man crumpled over the side of her bed. He’d fallen asleep talking to her, his torso leaned over her bed, and his hand rested lightly over hers.

He breathed heavily, half of his face on her pillow, and she savored the feeling of waking up with another so close. Yennefer gritted her teeth, the waves of pain increasing from her leg since she stopped pressing the little button by her bed. She wanted off the nasty pain killers as soon as possible. She was terrified, scared about the future of her leg, her job, and paying for the massive medical bills that would fill her mailbox soon.

Never had she missed her mother so much, but she knew what she would say to her, that _God wouldn't give her more than she could handle._ She had doubted her words more than once since she was a girl, but they’d been right so far, and words and memories were all she had left of the sweet woman, so they would have to do.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to banish the thoughts and worries of her future, and focus on the present. She was alive. She was alive, and the man behind the soft snores and the warm breath on her neck was responsible for it.

He began to stir, and she ran her fingertips over his knuckles softly. “Merry Christmas, my hero.” She leaned across the pillow and brushed her lips across his stubbled cheek, and couldn’t resist adding a second little kiss. She closed her eyes, missing the smile that spread across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is not official fire dept protocol at all. Highly inaccurate from beginning to end! As always you know I don’t know about medical procedure so it’s all made up. Yes, Renfri was a nurse in RTU as well, but I think she’s so cute and would be a good one. I WILL be kind to Eskel here damnit, there you go, I made up for Wylfings just a bit.
> 
>   
> This came to me in a hurry, totally unplanned, so there ya have a nugget of a thing. There’s more of it in my head though, if anyone is curious to read it. :D


	9. Austin, Texas - The Fire II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M

He came back. Geralt came back every day after his shift at the firehouse to sit with her. He had to leave on Christmas day to see his family, but he came back the following, just as he’d promised. Neither of them brought up her whispered words, or the little kiss she’d given, but they were comfortable together nonetheless.

He distracted her with stories of the calls he’d been on and the kindness he’d seen over the years. Sweet little old people who’d fallen and the worried parents of a child going through an allergic reaction. Much of what he’d seen over the years was sobering, but he left those stories buried as much as possible.

Her voice returned to it’s melodic tune and he absorbed the details of her life with rapt fascination. A graduate of the Art Institute of Houston, she was a gifted painter. She did a lot of contract work for many of the elite families in Texas, old oil money paid well and allowed her to pursue her passion. She told him she’d taken the assignment at the preschool to cleanse her soul from the arrogant wealth of her normal clientele. 

Yennefer was born and raised in Canada, and her mother had stayed behind when she moved to Texas for university. They spoke every night and remained close, until one day she didn’t answer the phone and Yennefer called their neighbor. Her mother had been diagnosed with a rare brain cancer, and hid it from her daughter. She didn’t want her dropping out of school to take care of her, and worrying herself. 

Yennefer flew home immediately, but her mother passed two days later. She told him she was grateful for the chance to say goodbye, her words as much to inform him as to reinforce it for herself. He squeezed her wrist, wondering just how much one young person was supposed to endure. 

“I thought, for a few moments, that maybe she missed me.” Yennefer looked down at the bandages on her hands. “Maybe that cabinet was her way of bringing me home.” 

“No.” He’d seen this before in victims of traumatic accidents. “If that was the case, we wouldn’t have found you. If she sent anything to you, it was me.” Her breathy “ _yeah_ ” was less than convincing, but he knew better than to rush her.

\------ 

Her purse was gone, licked up by the flames. Her wallet, ID, phone, car and apartment keys were all lost. He asked if there was anything she needed help with at her apartment, and if he could get her anything. 

“I have a cat, he’s three. His name is Sherlock, he’s terribly nosey.” Geralt smiled. “But I left the window open and he jumps across the balconies and swipes food and treats from my neighbors, I’m sure he’s alright. Mad at me, but alright.”

“Why don’t you let me talk to your super and get you a new set of keys. I’ll check in on the little bugger and make sure he’s got what he needs.” He offered as though it was no trouble. 

“I can’t ask you to do that, you’ve already wasted so much of your time here.” She shook her head in disagreement. 

“It’s no trouble, people see the jacket and doors open.” His windbreaker was laid over the chair, the Austin Fire Department logo in bold stitching. “Besides, firemen rescue cats all the time.” He winked and he knew he had her. 

Geralt had a contact at the Red Cross who he’d already reached out to, a specialist at helping people displaced by fire. Her home was intact, but her life in just as much disarray. He’d asked a favor, and the man promised to put a rush on her new license with the Austin DMV, and put his best financial consultant on her case. They would pay her bills and ensure that her obligations were taken care of. 

“Has the daycare owner been in to see you yet?” He was irritated that the woman hadn’t taken care of her. If he had been responsible for almost killing someone, he’d be at their beck and call, trying to avoid a lawsuit. 

“Nenneke said someone came while I was sleeping. There’s an envelope there, but…” She gestured to the small table, but she couldn’t handle the document. He reached for it and she nodded, giving him permission to read whatever it was. 

He read it out loud to her, his voice low and soothing. It was all the insurance information for the daycare. She was covered under the building’s policy, and they would pay for a significant amount of her care and the rehab she would need for her leg. There was a separate rider attached for prosthetics, and he shoved it back in the envelope, hoping that she would never need to read it. 

When it came time for him to leave, he stood, letting her know that he had an overnight shift and that he would return earlier in the morning. She shook her head, again insisting that he not burden himself with her. 

“Yennefer, I know about wasting my time, and this isn’t it.”

\------

He knew the way to the ICU by heart by the fourth day. He bought a fresh bouquet of flowers, the lilacs had been looking droopy. A large bag hung from his other hand, gifts for her inside. He strolled into her room and stopped abruptly. A crisp white sheet had been pulled over her face. 

The breath left his chest and he leaned heavily against the wall, the bag of gifts crumpling against his leg. 

“ _Oh no_ , no no.” Nenneke whispered, noticing him and racing across the ICU floor. She grabbed his arm and squeezed, getting his attention. “It’s not her. She’s alright.” He nodded somewhat blankly and abruptly walked back out the door. 

“She’s moved upstairs, it’s good progress for her. We needed the room, I’m sorry about that.” She gave him her new room number and he straightened the bag. “You’ll give her my best wishes again?”

Geralt agreed walked toward the elevator. She called out after him, “You’re a good boy, and I’d like to be invited.” 

His brow wrinkled in confusion, “To what?” All he got in return was laughter.

\------ 

Geralt knocked on her door and Renfri, his nurse from the prior week, pulled it open and answered. “Nice to see that you found us Geralt.” She stood aside and let him walk in. “I’ll ask that you and any visitors sanitize please.” 

She took the flowers and he did as he was told, noticing that her new room was much brighter and more comfortable than the ICU. “We’re working on wiggling our toes today, so I’ll expect you to keep her accountable.” She left with a smile, but not before mentioning that the sofa pulled out. 

“Nurse Nenneke sends her well wishes.” He brought the flowers to her nose before tossing the old ones and replacing them in the vase. 

“Oh no, they didn’t tell you I moved. I’m sorry.” Her hands were bare, and he found himself unable to tear his gaze away. Her skin was still pink and angry, but it once again covered and protected her palms. She noticed and hid them against the blankets, “They’re ugly, I know. I’m just getting used to them.” 

“No, they’re not ugly.” He laid his hand over hers, dwarfing her thin fingers. “They’re just so small.” She took his answer as truth and relaxed again. 

He could see more of her leg as well, the top layer of bandages gone to reveal smaller rolled gauze and a few sutures peeking from the edges. He knew the real damage was underneath, where the metal cage helped her bones heal together correctly. He imagined it was incredibly painful, but she hadn’t complained to him once. 

“Oh, there’s a gift in here for you.” He reached deep in the bag and pulled out a small, brightly wrapped gift. He handed it to her gently, happy that she would be able to open the tissue paper herself. She looked at him questioningly. 

“It’s from my mom.” He offered nonchalantly, as though that would answer her questions. 

“You told your mom about me?” She pinned her lip to keep the sly smile from her lips. 

“It would be hard to keep you a secret from my family, even if I wanted to.” 

“Your dad.” Of course, he was a fireman too, he would know what had happened. She unwrapped the package slowly, carefully tearing at the gold tissue. It was a little pair of impossibly fuzzy purple socks, complete with little grips so she wouldn’t slip on the tile floor. It would be a bit before she was in danger of slipping, but the thought was there and lovely. 

“She said _hospital socks are ugly and scratchy_ , and I’m to put these on your feet right away.” She laughed, telling him to pass on her genuine thanks. “Have you been wiggling?” He questioned, remembering Renfri’s order. 

She remembered and began slowly wiggling her toes, her heel propped up on a thick pillow. Soon enough she got distracted when he took her uninjured calf, slipping off the scratchy red hospital issue sock, his large hands gentle around the delicate bones of her ankle. 

He smiled, tapping lightly on her toe. She wiggled in response, and he went toe by toe, her graceful arch warm in his palm. He offered the other sock and she nodded, closing her eyes against the potential pain of a jostle. His touch was steady, and two painless moments later he returned to her side. 

“There are a few other things in the bag for you, she mentioned you might want them from your place. I poked around a bit for your brush, something called _dry shampoo,_ ah, a few bras…it’s in there, along with the list she made me.” 

She looked shocked and he backpedaled. “You’re freaked out. I told her she was crazy, I – “

“No, I just, don’t know how to thank you for all of this.” 

“The best way to thank me is to fight like hell and heal. Besides, I think your cat is lonely, so you’d best hurry. Your new keys are in here.” 

She smiled, thinking of the ornery fur ball. “He can be a pip.” 

“He sniffed me. Scratched me. Then sat on my lap as though I was his new best friend.” He stated matter-of-factly. 

“That’s him. Thank you so much.” He put the bag of her things inside the cupboard by her bed, and gave her the last little package. She looked up in shock, the sleek iphone box in her lap. 

“That’s from my brother. He’s a tech nerd in his time off, and he somehow ended up with it. He hates fruit phones with a passion, so yours it is. Save us time and don’t say it’s too much, and I’m not taking it back with me. Besides, this way if you change rooms you can tell me. Or if there’s anything else you want to talk about, you can tell me that too. My number’s in it already.” 

She didn’t have words. 

“My gift is on your bed, it’s just a small thing, but you’ve got to get home to get it.” 

“Geralt?”

“Hmm?”

“Come here.” 

He did as she asked, leaning out of the chair. Yennefer wrapped her arms around his chest and he did the same, his longer arms curling over her ribs. She rested her chin on his shoulder and let her lashes flutter shut at the clean, masculine scent of him. “Geralt, you don’t feel responsible for me, do you? You aren’t.” 

“No.” She felt his answer rumble in his chest. He might be lying a bit. Though, it wasn’t the same feeling of obligation she was referring to. He cared about her, worried for her, thought about her all through his day. 

She pulled her head back a bit, letting her cheek slide along his clean-shaven one. Her fingertips danced lightly over his shoulder blades and her nose bumped his. He took her invitation and tilted his chin, brushing his bottom lip over hers. Her tongue darted out to moisten the skin he touched and he circled back, his caress firm and purposeful. 

She smiled and he trapped her again, his tongue asking for entrance when her fingers sank into the long white hair cinched in an efficient bun on the back of his head. She parted her lips granting him entrance and sighed, remembering the wild way it had flowed when he pulled off his helmet the night of the fire. 

When his lips were on hers, all she remembered from that day was him. The kindness he’d shown a stranger, his flashlight a beacon in what little was left of her dark world. Her tongue reached out to his and she felt his own smile, playing and stroking until he pulled away. 

His hands were warm on her bare back, her thin gown little interference for their steady weight. He rested his forehead on hers to take a few breaths, and she made no move to separate from him. “Yennefer.” There was humor in his tone, his voice quiet. “Wiggle.”

He didn’t have to look to know she moved her toes as he asked when he kissed her again, the muffled sound she made enough reward. She poured everything she had into their kiss, her gratitude, fear, affection. 

When he pulled away again she buried her face in his neck. He planted a kiss in her hair and she took a shuddered breath, finally letting go of a few tears she hadn’t allowed herself before. 

\------

Yennefer’s nurse was a godsend. Renfri had visited her on her break, and washed her hair. She had to use a basin and really work out the tangles after, but Yennefer had never felt so clean before. Her curls had returned, reaching the middle of her back and no longer weighed down and smoky smelling. 

Now that she could use her hands, she was able to read and do puzzles. Geralt brought her a sketch pad, a few magazines with “girl stuff” in them, and his tablet so she could read. Now that she had the phone, she really should let Sabrina know where she was, but she just didn’t want her to drop everything and come sit by her bedside. Someone else was giving her far too much of his time already. 

It was New Year’s Eve, and she had practically begged him to spend it with his family. Guilt over monopolizing his time was starting to get to her. He’d taken an extra overnight shift just to be with her at midnight, claiming he normally worked with the other firemen spent the night at parties and with their families. 

He brought her Thai food and they ate together while they watched a movie on his tablet. Right in the middle of the movie he turned to her, “Something’s different about you.” 

She smirked, “Renfri washed my _hair._ No more hobo hairdo.” 

He smiled, running his hand through her soft curls. He’d noticed her hair, but there was something more that he couldn’t put his finger on. It wasn’t a bad change, so he let the feeling go. 

“I’ve brought dessert.” She produced two jello cups and he laughed. “Both red, no one knows their mystery flavor.” 

He took a spoonful of his and looked up thoughtfully, “I think I’m cherry.” 

“Switch? This is strawberry.” 

He did so and grimaced. “You liar, this is nasty fruit punch!” 

She laughed and held the cherry cup as far away as she could, but little was out of reach of his long arms. He snatched the cup back, but she leveled such a forlorn look at him that he gave it up anyway. 

“Yennefer!” A woman’s voice broke their fun.

Yennefer jumped at the harsh interruption, and Geralt whirled to see a beautiful blonde woman standing in the doorway. She walked halfway across the room, clutching her purse in shock, stopping when she saw Yennefer’s leg. She wore barely any bandage and the healing skin was visible. 

She and Geralt were so used to seeing it, that the look of terror on her friend’s face made her heart sink. No amount of jello cups and eighties action films would turn back time and repair her leg. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? What happened?! I haven’t heard from you in _eight days_! Who is he?” 

“Could you use the sanitizer at the door please?” Geralt was perfectly polite, but Sabrina’s eyes narrowed on him as a clear intruder. It was obvious she distrusted him, a mountain of a man with long white hair and funny eyes. He didn’t give a shit, he wasn’t going to let her leg get infected to spare the woman’s feelings. She did as he asked. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you. I - “ Yennefer tried to explain. 

“Bother me?” Instead of getting angry, Sabrina felt defeated. “My best friend in the world disappears to the hospital and doesn’t want to tell me.” 

“Do you want me to go?” Geralt’s tone was supportive. _Finally_ someone had come for her, and so long as she wasn’t a threat, he wouldn’t chase her away. 

“No,” Yennefer squeezed his hand, “but maybe some goldfish from the vending machine for later?” She introduced them and he pressed a kiss to her temple before leaving, uncaring that her friend watched with wide eyes. 

When the door closed behind him Sabrina walked to her bed and wrapped her in a hug. “I love you, but who are you, and who the hell is he?”

“The daycare burned down. He saved my life.” She ended up having to tell her the whole story, and tears leaked down Sabrina’s face before she was through. 

“Sweetie, why didn’t you _call me_?”

“I didn’t have a phone, and I couldn’t use my hands.” Yennefer showed her the healing skin on her palms. 

Sabrina sat in the chair Geralt had vacated and took a closer look at her offered hands. Her friend looked small in the bed, but somehow she wasn’t defeated. There was something new in her expression and Sabrina couldn’t place it. 

“One of those nurses could have found me. You don’t always have to keep everything afloat singlehandedly.” She put her hand on Yennefer’s shoulder, and Geralt stopped before entering and interrupting them. “Your mom passed, but that doesn’t mean you have to be alone.” 

“I haven’t, been alone.” She gestured toward the pillow on the sofa. “He’s been here every day.”

Sabrina thought about this new information. “I love you, don’t take this the wrong way, but _why_ has he been here?”

Geralt stared at the doorframe, waiting for her answer. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but it happened anyway. 

“Maybe...pity?” Her voice was so quiet he barely heard her. _No Yennefer, damn._

 _“_ What I mean is, will there be a settlement?”

He leaned his head back against the wall in the hallway. Of course he wasn’t there for that, but he couldn’t blame her friend for trying to protect her and bringing it up. His own father had asked him the same thing and he didn’t have a great answer, other than he liked spending time with her. 

He wasn’t there for the money, she was an artist, she barely had any. Her apartment had been clean and homey, but he was more interested in the photos on her fridge than what money might be coming her way. 

“A settlement? No, I’ll be a while paying off what the insurance doesn’t cover.”

“Yennefer, they all stood on the sidewalk for fifteen minutes waiting safely while they left you to,” she stumbled, still trying to come to grips with what happened, “to...”

Geralt chose that moment to interrupt. He walked back inside, “I’ve got three packages of crackers, if you wanted to stay. It’s about two hours till midnight.” The crackers were not only his way of inviting her, but they also told her he wasn’t going anywhere. 

“You want to be home don’t you? Istredd can’t handle both girls alone, with Audrey’s energy, and Emily is still teething?” 

Sabrina couldn’t decide if her friend was kicking her out, or genuinely concerned for her husband’s ability to handle their girls alone. She decided her concern was genuine, they were too close of friends for her to honestly want her to leave. 

“I’ll go, but you’ll see me here tomorrow with the girls, they miss you. I want you to text me twice a day at least, whether I’m here or not.”

“Yes mother.” Yennefer’s quip held humor but their hug no less sincere. 

“Nice meeting you Geralt.” He returned the sentiment. “Thank you for what you’ve done. Yennefer means a lot to my family and I, and...well, thank you.”

\------

“Heyyy, the boss is finally back.” Jaskier jeered at Geralt from a stationary bike. 

Their station had a small built in gym, and it had been a while since he’d used it. Geralt pulled on his lifting gloves and settled himself on one of their benches. 

“So what’s up with you man? You haven’t been around. Normally this time of year you’re loving those extra shifts and overtime.”

He should have known Jaskier wouldn’t let it go, he never did. “You know, busy. Got shit to do.” Eskel came from their lockers and hopped on a treadmill, nodding at his brother. 

Eskel knew where he’d been spending his time, and the way the men gossiped like old ladies, he was sure they all knew. Geralt loaded the weighted disks onto the bar and began a set of presses. 

“I mean, maybe it’s the new lady in your life?” Jaskier had the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Geralt finished his set and counted his breathing, sending a scowl his way when his phone chirped. He sat up and read her text. 

“ _Guess what_?” She rarely texted him and he knew it was so she didn’t feel like she was bothering him. He texted back a _“Hmmm,_ ” and waited a moment for her response. He got a photo of her leg. Gone was the metal cage and in it’s place, a regular fiberglass and plaster cast. “ _They said the bones are healing well._ ”

He couldn’t hold back his beaming smile as he texted her back excitedly. Jaskier clucked, “Look Eskel, she’s sexting him. Twenty bucks says he’s looking at a pair of titties right now.” 

Eskel jumped on his offer, “I’ll take that bet.”

———

“Oh, I absolutely love them. Thank you!” The little boy climbed up on the chair next to her bed and gave Yennefer a hug while his mother hung little masterpieces on her wall where she could see them. 

Finger paint portraits and macaroni art that the children created at their new daycare would surely brighten her recovery. Keira smiled and ruffled his blond hair. Yennefer met her a few weeks prior when she picked up her son, that day unwilling to leave his construction paper flower unfinished.

“Thank you so much for bringing him.”

“He begged to come. I had selfish reasons as well.” Yennefer’s brow raised, intrigued. “With the daycare shuttered, I wondered if you would be interested in teaching at the K-4 level. There’s an opening at my school, the one Jarrod will attend next fall, and I was hoping you would interview for it.”

Yennefer was surprised, but the more she thought about it, the more fitting the prospect sounded. More hours working with children and less stuffy contract work. “I’d love to, but I’m not sure I’ll be up and around in time if they’re hiring soon.”

“The current art teacher won’t retire until the spring, and you wouldn’t have to start until the fall. Considering I’m the principal, I think your chances are pretty good at the interview.” Keira winked. 

Yennefer hadn’t let herself think about what her future might look like. She had been trying to make the best of each moment, one small goal at a time. The true test to see what her future held, would depend on whether or not the muscles in her calf recovered. She supposed the school would be wheelchair accessible in any event. 

“I would really love that. Thank you.” 

———

“You had visitors.” Geralt’s voice was quiet, but enough to rouse her from her light doze. She had been sitting up, the tv droning low with the Soap Opera Network. She’d found the one her mother used to watch when she was a child, and miraculously still recognized the characters. 

She turned and smiled when she saw him, seemingly more handsome each time. “I did.” He leaned to kiss her and she met him halfway, her hand coming to rest on the side of his face. Something was a bit off about him that night, and he was reluctant to let her go. 

“Something’s wrong, what happened?” She searched his eyes, her mind beginning to come up with possible things that could have upset him. Her good news could wait. 

Geralt was taken aback. His family had criticized him for just burying his feelings, never showing emotion. A few of the women he’d dated had too, if he was being honest. It had taken her half a minute to pick up on his veiled distress. 

“Had a call that didn’t go well today.” 

She knew that probably happened often, and had already asked herself how in the world he dealt with such grief so often. 

“Will you tell me?” She patted the bed next to her. He raised a brow, peeking at her new cast. “Help me move the pillow a bit and it’ll be fine.” He got her situated on her side, her leg extended safely behind her and wrapped the thin blanket around her back where her gown tied. 

He slipped off his shoes and climbed into the bed hesitantly and wrapped his arms around her. She pulled the blanket over his shoulders, enveloping him in her warm cocoon. 

Renfri and the other nurses were able to help her get to the bathroom thanks to her new, less encumbered cast. She wanted to try crutches, but her doctor wasn’t too keen on the idea just yet, fearing for the healing already done on her palms. 

He kept his lower half on his own side of the mattress, no doubt nervous about bumping her leg, but his embrace still felt like heaven to her. She tucked her head under his chin and feathered a pair of kisses to his chest where the buttons of his polo shirt were undone. 

His hand massaged the back of her neck and over her scalp lightly as he spoke. “We were called to Brookdale, it’s mostly elderly people and little homes from the fifties out there.” She wrapped her arms around his broad back. 

“A cardiac arrest, the woman was seventy-two. We couldn’t bring her back, they’d been married fifty-five years. He fell to his knees and wept against my jacket.” 

“ _Oh_.” Her voice was soft and remorseful.

“We lose people a lot more than I’d like to admit, but today…was different. I couldn’t help but put myself in his shoes.” 

She held him tighter, pressing her face to his neck. He dragged his lips over her temple. “You did everything you could. I know it’s true, I’ve seen it myself.” His hand slipped through the seam of her gown and splayed across her back, it’s warmth searing across her bare skin. “You were there for him, it’s all anyone can ask of you."

They laid together until she began placing wet kisses in the hollow of his throat. She felt his satisfied hum rumble past her lips and his hand crept down to the small of her back. He traced from the gentle swell of one hip to the other, the pads of his fingers dipping underneath the band of her panties. 

“Geralt,” her voice was husky against his skin. He pulled his fingers back. “Touch me.” He leaned back to look her in the eyes, finding only affection, trust, and desire. 

He captured her gasp under his lips and palmed the supple flesh of her rear. His tongue met with hers, his gentle _hello_ , _how was your day my sweet_ , and his hand spelled his want for her, his _come to be beautiful_. 

Her legs laid open to protect her calf, and thick fingers found her wet for him. She reveled in his groan as he traced along her folds, exploring gently until he found her clit and she sighed. Her warm breath ghosted across his chin and she shuddered, a delicate moan on her lips. 

She was so responsive to even his slightest touch, that he couldn’t stop his mind from filling his vision with images of the two of them together. In his bed, on the carpet, bent over the table, her coos and pleasured whimpers only drove his imagination and the uncomfortable bulge in his jeans. 

His finger circled her core and he added another, his thumb loyal on her clit and she clutched at his back, her nails dragging across his shirt. “Shhhh,” he hushed her softly and she tucked her mouth to his collarbone, muffling her cry into his shirt. 

He slowed his hand some, suddenly worried she would move her leg, and it only served to draw her into a second climax. He pulled her tight to his chest, the press of her breasts alluring through the thin gown as she trembled against him. He moved his hand back and stroked her inner thigh, his own breath rapid as she struggled to catch hers. 

He planted a kiss on her forehead and her hand went to his belt. “Not here beautiful. When we get home.” Her cheeks were flushed when she leaned back to search his face. “I won’t be able to stop.” He wouldn’t hurt her, accident or no, and he wouldn’t have the night nurse catching them and revoking his visiting privileges. 

She bit her lip, she felt bad. 

“Hey, I’ve forgotten all about what happened during my shitty day, now tell me about your visitors.”

———

“Mrs. Cranston, I’m sorry but I really can’t, I just don’t have time these days.” Geralt let the weed whacker in his hands idle down and quit. His neighbor was a kind woman, but she could be so pushy. 

When his uncle died, Geralt purchased his house. A bachelor and a career fireman, it suited him as it had his uncle. Cherrywood was a quaint suburb, but close enough to downtown that he could make it the firehouse fast if he needed to. The house was a two bedroom, one and a half bath, and Vilgefortz had remodeled the kitchen and both bathrooms not long before he passed. 

It was perfect for Geralt, except he’d been spending his time with Yennefer instead of keeping up with his yard work, and he knew he’d pay the price. 

“But Geralt, you promised to show her around when she arrived. Do you remember?”

He remembered. Something about her granddaughter moving to Austin and needing to make friends. “I have a...friend now, and I just don’t think it’s appropriate to -“

“ _Please_ , I already gave her your phone number. Remember when you forgot to close your garage door, and when you ran out of propane for your grill? Morty and I have been there for you, do this for our girl, please. Just an hour or two, as friends.”

If she could have heard how loud the word _fuck_ sounded in his head, she would have tipped right over in the grass.

\------

“How come he gets to wear that and I’m still in napkin couture?” Yennefer pouted and Renfri laughed. She was uncomfortable in her thin cotton hospital gown with the reporter in the room. Renfri had washed and curled her hair, and had even done her makeup.

Geralt looked equally uncomfortable with the attention, his dress blues crisp and striking on his tall frame. Nenneke fussed over his jacket, pulling imaginary lint while she quizzed him about the different medals that hung opposite his Captain’s badge. “Service recognition.” 

Her brow furrowed, he wasn’t elaborating. “And here, this shiny one.”

“It’s for valor.” He shot Yennefer a _save me_ look, uncomfortable with her gently prying. 

“Nenneke, may I borrow the hero of the hour before they begin the interview?” Her request was sweet and he practically ran to the side of her bed. 

“Remind me why we agreed to do this?” He sounded tortured. 

Yennefer ran her hands over the stiff collar of his jacket. “For those less fortunate, and because they’d already called the paper before we could stop them.” 

Nenneke and Renfri had gotten together and let the newspaper know that they had a modern day hero right in their midst. Geralt had been flattered but horribly annoyed, until the nurses announced that the paper would call for donations in their honor and give them to the fire department’s children’s charity. 

“Oh yeah.” He dipped his chin to give her a quick kiss.

She chased him and claimed a second. “You look so handsome Captain,” her whisper meant for his ears only. “Maybe we can meet later to discuss proper fire safety regulations, and other very important things.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

Nenneke cleared her throat and they pulled apart. He sat down next to her bed stiffly, and the reporter situated herself on the opposite side. Yennefer’s hand slipped from below the blanket to pull his under it. She twined her fingers with his, and only Renfri noticed the movement. 

The reporter asked them for their versions of the night of the fire, and about Yennefer’s progress since then. “It looks like you two are close, are you sure you hadn’t known each other before that night?”

He let her answer. “We didn’t. Not only is he brave, but one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. We’ve been in touch since the accident, and he has given much of his time to keep me company and help me heal. I don’t know what I would do without him.” 

Geralt looked to her feet, uncomfortable with the praise. She leaned to kiss him on the cheek, and the reporter snapped a photo. They both startled and she shrugged, “Need one for the article.” 

\------

Geralt was on shift the day she was set to come home, and Sabrina came to pick her up. They were sending her with a temporary wheelchair, but crutches as well. A physical therapist would come to her apartment every day, until she could get to the facility herself. It was a good sign that her foot retained it’s movement and feeling, and it was up to the muscle in her leg to determine if she would walk again unassisted. 

Sabrina packed her bag, while Yennefer sat on the edge of her bed, carefully folding and packing the children’s artwork. Sabrina was surprised at how many of her belongings the fireman had brought for her, and how comfortable she seemed. Her friend seemed lighter than she had before this horrific accident, and her stomach ached with what she needed to tell her. 

“Yenna, I need to show you something.” Sabrina’s tone gave Yennefer pause. She opened up her phone, and produced a photo of a couple eating at a restaurant. The woman was beautiful, with short, dark hair and sharp bone structure. The man opposite her in the booth was unmistakable. 

“Istredd and I were on date night, Wednesdays we get a sitter. Well, you know that. I only noticed because he’s hard to miss. I didn’t hear what they were talking about, and we left before they did. Maybe there’s an explanation, but I couldn’t keep this from you.” 

The phone felt heavy as a rock in Yennefer’s hand. Technically, he hadn’t done anything wrong. They had made no commitments to each other, no formal plans. Her insides didn’t feel any less sick, her heart any less bruised. Some people could casually see multiple people at a time, but she knew herself well enough to know that she wasn’t one of them. Sabrina did too. 

She forced a smile and handed Sabrina’s phone back. “We aren’t dating, he’s free to roam, but thank you. It helps to keep me focused.” 

“You were meant to meet him Yenna, there’s no doubt about it. Maybe he’s already done what he was meant to do in your life?”

“You’re absolutely right.” She returned to carefully folding the construction paper hearts into a pile. 

“I know you’re hurting, you don’t have to hide it from me. You’re my best friend, you can lean on me. You’re only twenty-four for Christ’s sake, you’ve got years to find the right one.” 

“I’m not hiding.” She held her arms out and Sabrina gave her a firm hug. “You’re right, what’s meant to be will be.” 

———

When her door shut and Sabrina left, a wave of quiet hit Yennefer hard. Geralt had taken care of everything while she was in the hospital. Her mail was piled neatly by day, and fresh milk and eggs sat in her refrigerator. A new bag of cat treats sat by a loaf of bread he’d bought, and Sherlock chose that moment to appear in the window. 

He meowed loudly, likely angry at her for her extended absence. “I’m home mister, you can forgive me now, it wasn’t my fault.” His litter was clean and a new bag of dry kibble sat by his bowl. He jumped up on the counter and wrapped his tail around a pile of cans and waited impatiently for her to get with the new program. 

“He’s been feeding you this rich stuff? You’ll get fat, the other kitties will poke fun at you.” He didn’t seem to give a shit. His black coat _did_ look shiny and healthy, and he meowed again. She sighed, opening one of the cans and setting the bowl on the floor for him. 

She went to use the bathroom, and a shiny new rail had been installed on the side of her vanity. She tried to ignore it, but she was forced to use it to get out of the damn chair. She clenched her jaw, determined to kick ass on her physical therapy so she could dump the damn thing in a lake. 

Laid on her bed was the package he had mentioned getting for her, still wrapped in Christmas paper. She opened it to find a sweater, just like the one she lost the night of the fire. It was the right size too. Anger flashed across her face and she flung the sweater to the floor of her closet. 

They weren’t a casual fling. Nobody did that much for someone they were just conveniently friends with. He must’ve gotten tired of dealing with someone who couldn’t just pick up and go running or out to eat without being encumbered with equipment. She didn’t need him, she didn’t need help, or love, or whatever the fuck he’d been to her. She would be fine if she never saw him again. 

He texted her then, asking what she would like for dinner and when he should arrive. She typed her response quickly and waited for his. 

Y: _Not feeling well, I think I need a break._

Dots…nothing…dots and then his response.

G: _Alright, take the time you need. Sleep well beautiful, see you tomorrow._

Yennefer tossed the phone on the bed and wheeled back into her living room. She hefted herself up on the couch, turned on the tv and waited for the cat to settle down on her lap. He sat by the door, meowing. She ignored him until she finally burst out, “He’s not coming back!” 

Not surprisingly he carried on until she was half asleep, when he gave in and stretched out across her lap, his gaze watching the door for his white haired friend. 

\------

“What’s going on Yennefer, why won’t you let me in? Are you alright?”

He was at her door, worry in his words. She just couldn’t. She couldn’t open the door and tell him to _fuck off_ from her damn wheelchair, she refused. 

She closed her eyes and spoke from the other side of the door. “I’m sorry but I can’t do it anymore.” _I can’t be someone’s second choice._

His voice was low and measured. “What do you mean?”

“Spend time with you.” _You’ve wasted enough of your time on this charity case._ She bit her lip.

“You’re breaking up with me.” 

“There’s nothing to break.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The Red Cross stuff, all made up lol. Her healing and stuff, all made up – some things would take much longer to actually heal than in my world so know that I skipped the physician’s desk reference. She should have gone to rehab, but I was tired of the hospital hehe. Firemen medals, real lol.  
> Istredd and Sabrina, what the hell. The way certain Witchers take turns with mages, you know they’re doing the same lol.  
> Yen doesn’t think she’s worth anything because I think it’s a major canon theme, though hers cleverly hidden by biting comments, Geralt’s affliction with the issue is much more on his sleeve.


	10. Los Angeles, California - The Frat III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Rated E.  
> More than a fling?

She thought of him. She wondered what he was doing during the day and it wasn’t right. At night, forget it, she touched herself trying to banish the thought of him only to wake up dreaming of him. It pissed her off to no end that she couldn’t shake him, and she wished he had never told her that he thought of her too.

Yennefer walked her books the campus bookstore, too preoccupied to be annoyed that they’d give her pennies on the dollar for them, only to sell them at nearly full price again in a month. She would be the one to reach out to him, she had to. He wouldn’t come near her after her assumption at the soup kitchen.

It was just as well, because she had an excuse to see him. His frat house’s big charity event was that evening, and she planned to make full use of it. Their annual auction raised an impressive amount of money for local charities, and put them at the top of their district for outreach. They were famous for it, and she assumed this year’s holiday event would be no less flashy than the prior year.

The boys auctioned items donated by rich family members, like weekend retreats and spa packages, right through to the end of the evening when they auctioned themselves. Well, they offered up their services. Some would assist with tutoring the next semester, others would teach a skill – skiing, boxing, etc. Others would auction dates – dinners, movies, and mini-golf outings all possibilities.

Philippa and the other girls had no interest in attending with her, Phil’s exact words, “No way will I attend and make that archaic money grab any more popular than it already is.” Renfri wasn’t surprised when she brought up the topic, insisting she knew Yennefer couldn’t stop thinking about him. Yennefer was “smitten”, and Renfri had advised her to talk to him before. She wasn’t going to sit in the crowd of thirsty forty-something housewives and bid on boys she could have for free if she so chose.

Yennefer wouldn’t have to go alone though, fortunately her cousin had taken her last final exam and was excited to go with her. Her father’s niece, Fringilla, studied at the neighboring Thornton School of Music. Accused of looking like sisters when they were young, Yennefer and Fringilla had always had a rocky relationship, but eased into a friendship after high school.

She took her receipt from the clerk, two hundred dollars for what was easily worth five times that. She wrinkled her nose in annoyance, but thanked the clerk all the same and headed back across campus. She wanted to spend a bit of extra time on her hair. She was both annoyed and excited at the butterflies in her stomach. How _dare_ he distract her so? She crossed the street, biting her lip and smiling to herself. Oh, but what a distraction he was.

\------

The old theatre was fully decorated for the Christmas season. A large tree laden with sparkly garland and ornaments of every shape and size stood tall on the corner of the stage, woodsy smelling pine boughs and twinkling lights filled the rest of the large room. Yennefer and Fringilla paid their entrance fee, all the night’s proceeds going to support the local Children’s Hospital.

Yennefer received her paddle, she was number sixty-nine. Not yet, but hopefully soon, she thought to herself with a grin.

“Name and paddle number?” Jaskier mumbled without looking up from the book he wrote in.

“Yennefer Vengerberg, sixty-nine.”

He looked up abruptly and hissed. “Noooo, it’s not possible. You finally cloned yourself, evil witchy spells. It’s the only thing that explains why anyone would go anywhere with you.” He gestured toward Fringilla.

“How come you’re here and not in the back, greasing up like the pig you are? Didn’t get any bids last year?”

He smiled at her words and she wondered if her dig didn’t hit as hard as she’d intended. “Keep sassing me Elvira, he’s my prized stud, and you’ll never get him.”

She narrowed her eyes and leaned against the table. “Does he know you speak about him in such a vile way? Who says I can’t win him, we’ll let the paddles do the talking.”

“You’ll have to pay up if you want another taste, you’re not the only sexually frustrated _bitch_ he’s been able to tame.”

That last one hurt, and to her shame, it wasn’t the “bitch” part that stung. Of course Geralt wasn’t celibate, but she didn’t want to picture him with anyone else. She'd made up her mind, and he wouldn't sway her. This was turning nasty, and Phil had stayed home – it wasn’t the time. “Did you write my name or not Jaskier?”

“Elvira and her equally pale clone, paddles sixty-nine and seventy. Got it.”

\------

There were more people seated in the small theatre than she thought there would be. Yennefer looked around the room, finding it mostly alumni, and mostly female. She slipped off her thin coat and laid it against her seat back.

“You dressed up, you really like this guy, don’t you?” Fringilla asked, noticing the deep “v” of Yennefer’s silky black halter top.

“A little bit.” Was all she was willing to admit to.

“I have to admit something to you too, Yenna.” Fringilla started, just as the lights began to flash in the room. The auction would begin in just a moment. “We haven’t talked in a while, and I’ve made some new friends.”

The lights dimmed, and Jaskier walked on the stage to take his place behind a wooden podium, the harsh glow of a spotlight following him. He wore a Santa hat, and a bushy white beard. “Well, some old friends made new.” Fringilla continued.

Yennefer didn’t understand why she was hurrying to tell her some random thing about her friend. Jaskier started speaking at the same moment Fringilla did. “Triss Merigold, she’s been one of my best friends since we were kids.”

Heat rushed to Yennefer’s face, feelings of anxiety and hurt rushing to the forefront of her mind. “I owe her a favor, I’m sorry.”

Yennefer finally spoke, “What’s the favo –“

“Ladies in the middle, please, be courteous so everyone else can hear.”Jaskier called them out in front of the crowd, and the pair were duly silenced.

Jaskier ran the auction swiftly, plowing through gift certificates, auto detailing services and beauty treatments. Spa packages flew out the door, and paddles raised all around them when he auctioned an all expense paid weekend in Aspen, and a four day trip to the Bahamas. Yennefer couldn’t help but wonder what the frat had done to get such lavish donations.

“Now ladies, I’m not the MC from Magic Mike, but pretty close to it.” Someone in the crowd whistled loudly. “We’re on to our bachelors for the evening, and just remember, all of the proceeds earned will go directly to the children who need our help the most.”

Jaskier introduced the first few guys who volunteered, some coming with dates, others tutoring, and some instruction on a skill they possessed. Chireadan was the first man she recognized, and he looked wholly uncomfortable being gawked at on the stage. Yennefer knew him to be shy, and she could sympathize with him.

His short, dark hair and tall lean figure caught the attention of a rather thirsty woman in the front row, and she made no effort to hide her literal drool for him. “Now ladies, do remember that the gentleman is only responsible to provide what’s listed on his card.” Jaskier winked at her. “Our boy Chireadan has promised an afternoon on the beach, with either a surfing lesson or mini golf, winner’s choice.”

The woman went right for him, her paddle nearly flying from her thick hand as she waved it. Oh, what the hell, Yennefer thought, she’d love to get to know him as a friend. Yennefer raised her paddle and waited.

“Oh no, ho ho _ho_ , you’ve some competition in the front now ma’am!”

Yennefer gave Jaskier a perturbed look at his _ho_ dig, and the thirsty woman returned a look to her that was downright murderous. The two women went back and fourth until Mrs. Thirst’s friends talked her into waiting for another man they liked the look of. Chireadan let out the breath he’d visibly been holding and gave her a little wave of thanks before walking back behind the curtain.

The next bachelor up for bid was their famous DJ, and the paddles went flying right away when he walked on stage. Eskel DeKaer was a phenomenon in his own right, and he was auctioning a night in his booth while he played a popular club in downtown LA. A sky high bid had him breezing off of the stage in no time.

“Alright ladies (and gents), you remember him from prior years and you know you regret not being the one who’s taken home such a studly guy. Well here’s your last chance to make it right!” Jaskier’s voice filled the room and Geralt walked to the middle of the stage, looking just as uncomfortable as Chireadan had.

“Our most eligible man is now a senior, and you won’t want to miss dinner out with our blond bachelor, to be followed with dancing at the very same club Mr. DeKaer will be spinning that evening!”

Four paddles were up before he even began telling the crowd what the date consisted of. Yennefer planned to wait until the very end, and not pad the bidding. Her book money burned a hole in her pocket, and was joined by a check her father had given her for her birthday. Higher and higher the bidding went until it seemed to level off. “He’ll take off his shirt!” Jaskier tried, and Geralt scowled at him. “Come on man, it’s for the kids.”

“Alright, going- ?” Jaskier began, and Yennefer raised her paddle. He barely held back his eye roll, but registered her bid nonetheless. The other bidder fired back, and they went a few rounds, but Yennefer held firm and surprise wore on Geralt’s face when he recognized the dainty hand on the handle of her paddle.

“As much as it pains me, going…going…” Fringilla raised her paddle and Yennefer gasped.

“I’m sorry, I tried to explain.” Fringilla shrugged and raised her paddle again.

Geralt was shaking his head, it was too much money. He squinted in the harsh spotlight, trying to see what was going on between the two women. Finally he caught her gaze, and she understood what he was mouthing. _Don’t do it._

He didn’t want her to win. She’d let her pride get in the way, and he didn’t care to spend time with her. “Fine Fringilla, you win.” She lowered her paddle and Jaskier was excited to finally wrap up the auction. “Are you even going on the date, or is it for _her_? You know what, I don’t even want to know.” Yennefer stood and walked to the isle so she could head behind the stage and have a word with her date.

\------

Chireadan was so grateful that she saved him from the thirsty woman in the front that she almost forgot what she had come there to do that evening. He chatted on about their date, and where they could go, when she caught Geralt watching them over his shoulder. Fringilla approached him and she looked away, focusing again on Chireadan’s grateful banter. She asked him for a ride home, the last thing she wanted to do was get back in the car with Fringilla after she’d so blatantly ruined her night.

They pulled up in front of her sorority house, and she hesitated before getting out of the car. “I need to be honest with you Chireadan, I’m not really looking for a hookup or a romance right now.” She wouldn’t use him, or lead him on.

“I know. I know it wasn’t me you came for tonight, but I’m still glad you did. Let me see your phone for a second.”

She handed it over and he typed a few things and pressed it back into her hand and leaned to kiss her cheek. “I’ll see you on Saturday at four gorgeous.”

She blushed and shook her head, closing the door behind her. He pulled away and she opened her phone to the new contact file he’d created. _Ger 323-784-1458_

\------

Geralt never gave her a chance. When he showed up to pick up Yennefer’s cousin, a suspiciously familiar redhead had bounced into his car instead. He didn’t know what kind of game the women were playing, but he wanted no part in it. Someone had paid good money for a few hours of his time, he would deliver, and then hope to never see them again.

Their dinner was awkward when he finally remembered her from the Halloween party, and the betrayal on Yennefer’s face when she showed up with her ex-boyfriend was vivid in his memory.

“So, Geralt, what does she see in you? Besides the handsome, well-built package?” Triss sipped her red wine and stole a bite of steak from his plate as though they were good friends.

“Who?” God, she was forward.

“You know who. The bitch that keeps coming at me. First she gets me kicked out of my own sorority, and then spooks my boyfriend at that damn Halloween party, and we haven’t been the same since.”

Geralt’s eyebrow arched inquisitively, ignoring her digs about Yennefer. “He knows you’re here with me?”

Triss was taken aback, a slight sneer overtaking her cherub-like face. “No, and he doesn’t need to know.”

“He still cares about her and you hate that.”

“Therapy wasn’t on the itinerary for tonight now, was it?” She snapped.

“I suppose not.” He flagged down the waiter for their dessert.

\------

“Jesus Christ it’s cold!” Yennefer’s shriek echoed down the sparsely populated beach.

“There you go, now you’re ready to surf.” Chireadan made a big show of dusting off his hands after tossing her into the water.

“I want to go back to the part of the date where I just read quietly in the sand.” She lamented, her wet hair sticking to her back and her black bikini a stark contrast to her pale skin.

“Nope, you’re getting what you paid for my fair lady.” He pulled the surfboard close with a smile.

\------

Word had spread about Eskel’s appearance and the club was packed. The dance floor was shoulder to shoulder, solid with college students and locals alike. Geralt’s height set him apart from the majority of the men dancing, and he held his beer like a lifeline as Triss jerked and ground against him. Christmas lights hung everywhere, and Geralt wondered if the old style transformers on the block would be able to handle even one more little bulb.

Geralt tried to remind himself that the elbow in his back and the tits in his face were for charity. Eskel spun a wicked remix of the Carol of the Bells and laid Tupac over it like a master. He tipped his beer in salute, Eskel easily about to make out his unique hair and height around the woman on his lap on the platform.

“Bathroom.” He nudged her hip, breaking Triss from her bend and halting his view of her panties in her short dress.

“What?” She yelled to be heard over the base.

“Bathroom.”

She still couldn’t hear him.

He cuddled up close to her and wrapped his arms around her. She thrilled against his touch, rubbing herself over his frame shamelessly. Instead of a seductive secret, he barked, “Gotta piss.”

She finally understood and let him go. He wove through the crowd, hit the bathroom, and checked his phone when he stepped back into the main room. Eleven fourty-five, only fifteen more minutes of his “date”. He opened a text from an unknown number to read; _Talk when your date is over? –Y_

The noise in the club faded from his senses and he responded immediately; _It’s already done, Reserve – up by the booth._ He returned to the dance floor and began watching the door for her. Triss’s hands were everywhere, and he could swear she was using his leg as a stripper pole.

After what felt like an eternity, he saw her, she and Chireadan slipping past the bouncer on Yennefer’s good looks. She was wearing a men’s USC swim jacket, the Division One markings clear as day, his PR’s embroidered into the logo. They stopped at the bar, and she pulled the coat open in the front, her simple black tank enough to make him groan.

“Thank you for the date and your donation Triss, have a nice night.” He tried to pry her from his leg.

She had to screech to be heard, “You just started having fun!” She patted the bulge in his pants, pouting her lip out.

He resisted the urge to tell her that it wasn’t for her. Even without Yennefer in the picture, he wasn’t attracted to someone who would lie and betray her own sorority sister. “Have a good night Triss, Merry Christmas.”

He left her pissed off, and made his way to the bar. Chireadan nodded when he approached and disappeared into the sea of people to find his own partner for the evening.

It was slightly quieter away from the vibrating speakers, and he slid onto the stool next to hers. “Nice jacket.”

She brought the collar to her nose and savored the smell of him. “It is.” When she met his gaze, he felt the same pangs of longing that had washed over him on Halloween, and again at the soup kitchen. Stronger so, he knew the wit and beauty hidden underneath the gold and red fibers.

“You’re wearing it, even though _we’re nothing_.” The bartender took his empty bottle and brought him a shot of whiskey. He would catch up with the seven and seven she was sipping.

“I fear I was hasty. Can you forgive me?” Manicured nails stirred her drink blindly, unwilling to break his probing gaze.

“Yennefer, I want to know more about you. More than just what makes your legs shake and your voice horse.”

Her confident gaze faltered at his words, but they weren’t wrong. He didn’t play games, said what he wanted, and walked away from what he didn’t.

“Those things help.” The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Me too.” She reached up and fixed a stray white curl that had fallen across his forehead, damp from dancing.

He swallowed hard and took his shot. The glass no more that hit the bar and the pulsing beat of _Pony_ bled into the Linkin Park mix that ebbed away.

Her lipstick left a shadow on her straw as she took a sip. “He’s playing our song.” She slipped his coat off and hid it on the hooks underneath the bar.

A matching grin lit across his face and he held his hand out, “Damn right he is.”

\------

Geralt pulled his lips from hers and took a deep gulp of air. He was a competitive swimmer, and she could still leave him breathless. His coat was wadded up next to them in the Uber, her legs straddling his, the straps of her tank top hanging limp down her arms. He wanted to peel it off of her, but he wasn’t about to share the view with their driver.

“You’re staying for breakfast,” he asked as she left faint lipstick marks along his jaw. “No more disappearing act?” Her hips rolled over his and he could feel the heat of her through her thin leggings.

“Scrambled, bacon.” She took his earlobe between her teeth and gave a frustrated little moan.

Breakfast had never sounded so appealing to him. “I want to get to know you.”

She released the pinked skin of his ear to whisper sensually, “My middle name is Vivian for my grandmother.” Her tongue swept over his ear. “I’m an only child, and my favorite movie is Overboard.”

His hands stopped on the small of her back. “Overboard? As in the eighties movie, Goldie Hawn?” He’d expected something deep like Citizen Kane or Gone With the Wind.

“That’s the one.” She leaned back a bit. “They’re so cute together. Even though she’s snobby and bitchy, he finds the kindness and love in her heart. Joanna is a misunderstood character. Kurt is a hottie, maybe it’s the curly hair.” Her hands were already threaded through his own curls.

“Sweaty carpenter will be the easiest Halloween costume ever.” He counted her choice a victory.

“I’m not waiting for Halloween to play that.” The lascivious look in her eyes was one he wished to memorize. “And you?”

She returned to his neck and tugged on his hair gently, making his answer somewhat strangled. “The Shawshank Redemption, Antony as in Mark Antony, and four siblings.”

Her teeth grazed his neck, “Four!?”

“Dad wanted more.” She leaned back and her eyes went wide. Geralt shrugged, the pearly white of his teeth vivid in the dark car.

“I’m on the pill.” She seemed confident enough with her solution.

“Take two.” He deadpanned, and laughed out loud at her horrified expression. “Relax, we were planned. Well, except Lambert.”

Their driver was chuckling, laughing at her shock as they pulled up at the frat house. She grabbed his jacket before sliding out of the car. As soon as the Uber pulled away, he bent and picked her up off the sidewalk and slung her over his shoulder.

“Geralt!” She squawked as her vision tilted unexpectedly. She gave him a slap on the ass as he carried her up the sidewalk, his response a deep grunt. He spun around as soon as the front door closed behind him and she slid down his chest until they were eye level.

He held onto her thighs and pressed her back against the heavy wooden door, searching her face for hesitation. Instead, she squeezed her thighs around his waist and whispered in his ear, “ _Salvation lies within_ ** _._** ”

It took him a moment, and he realized what she was quoting. “ _Hope is a dangerous thing_ ,” he replied, pulling her from the door and walking her up the stairs, his footfalls heavy and purposeful.

She recognized his bedroom, and he laid her at the foot of the bed. “ _Hope is a good thing_ ,” she countered, lifting her hips to allow him to slide her leggings and panties to the floor. She was a mess, the car ride home leaving her arousal painted across the inside of her thighs.

Geralt groaned at the sight of her and bent to clean the tender folds that invited him when he spread her knees. He knelt on the coat that barely made it into the house, taking his time, savoring what was now exclusively his. She wanted to stay, she came to the auction after him, and she wanted to know him beyond simply fucking.

He added more pressure and buried his tongue as deep as he could, trailing a hand up her torso which she promptly intertwined with her own. Her breathy sighs and cut off moans left him beyond hard for her, and twice as eager to please. “Come with me Geralt,” she tugged at the shirt he hadn’t had time to take off.

He parted from her slippery folds with a wet sound, “I will, next time.” Amusement framed his eyes, but his expression softened and desire burned clear when he saw her half dazed look. She was teetering over the edge already, and he mumbled the next line, “ _H_ _ope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies_ ** _._** ”

He let her hip go and used his free hand, crooking and bending his fingers as far as he could. Yennefer gasped, clutching at his hand and trying to remember to leave him room to breathe. “It’s an insult to me that you can recite these lines right nah, _ah_!” She hissed and shook, her deep, seemingly endless moan filling the room.

He climbed up her heaving chest, trailing his lips and chin over her pale skin as he rolled up her tank, leaving wet trails in his wake. “I can recite them because I’ve seen it probably thirty ti- _ugh_!” She peeled his shirt over his face without preamble, leaving him to wrestle himself free while she went after the fly of his jeans.

By the time his shirt flew past the edge of the bed, her hands were on him, warm and insistent. “Did you win that prize young lady?”

She grinned at his playful chastising. “No, but I’m taking it nonetheless.” Her brow raised and she pumped him with more pressure. Thick white lashes slammed shut and if she didn’t know better, she thought he growled lowly.

“Up,” he mumbled, and she leaned off of the bed so he could undo the clasp of her bra. The elastic sprang free and she pulled the fabric down her arms, his mouth already affixed to her soft skin, pebbling her small nipples and running his teeth over her flesh lightly.

“Geralt, please.” He pretended not to hear her.

“Geralt… _now._ ” He grunted in protest, but since her request aligned with the rather insistent need he already felt, he obeyed. He took just a moment to shove his boxers and jeans to the floor, climbing back on the bed to meet her hungry gaze. He remembered himself and leaned, reaching a long arm to his bedside table.

Yennefer grabbed his hand, tugging his mouth to hers. She kissed him firmly and nibbled his bottom lip, “The pill, if you don’t want to.” She left it up to him, her cards on the proverbial table. He tossed the packet aside and kissed her again, his thumbs framing her jaw.

He couldn’t help but groan when he ran his cock through her folds, lining up their bodies and pushing past her entrance. Her moan was music to his ears when she’d taken him to the hilt. They were far from strangers to each other’s bodies, and yet, something was wholly different.

He set a slow pace, watching her expression change when he moved her leg and shifted the angle of his hips. She began to move with him, sliding down on his upward thrusts, soft hands and the occasional nip of her nails fighting to keep their place on the small of his back.

Geralt hid his face in the hollow of her neck, the sensual gasps and whispered pleas from her lips even closer to his ear. He slipped his hand under her head and palmed her breast with the other, “ _Yennefer_ ,” eventually trailing down between their legs to bring her with him.

He leapt first, snapping his hips to hers as she held him close, finishing deep with long, satisfying pulses. His yelp reached her ears before he slammed his mouth shut, his pleasure pulling hers free. Even deeper still her muscles beckoned him, her soft, wordless cry and the trembling limbs completing her surrender.

He turned in the crook of her neck to feather kisses on her cheek, flushed with exertion and pleasure found. He laid next to her and she turned into his chest, a wave of possessiveness running embarrassingly heavy, all the way down to his toes. Just when he thought she would nod off, she whispered, “You’re getting even better at that _Bruce_.”

\------

 _Son of a bitch_ , she was gone again. He sat up, staring at the empty sheets next to him. He’d fallen for her spell, into her trap, yet again.

_Oh, shut up. You’re full of shit._

Geralt grinned when he heard her downstairs. Relief flooded his body, and was soon replaced by urgency. She was down there with Jaskier, and he’d better haul ass if he ever wanted to see her again. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants quickly and hustled down the stairs, entering the kitchen in the middle of their argument.

“Crispy bacon is a travesty. It’ll be ruined!” Jaskier whined.

They were trying to cook together, and it would be amusing if there weren’t so many knives out in the open.

“What’s it going to take to get you to stop jumping down my throat?” She put her hands on her hips.

“No room down there, Geralt’s a big boy.” He snarked and she whipped a pot holder at him. “Just stop being a bitch, and I’ll ease up.”

“Why, you deserve it.” She gestured to the sprig of mistletoe cinched in the zipper of his boxers.

“The only mistletoe she’s kissing is mine.” They both realized Geralt was there at the same time. She crossed the kitchen to give him a kiss, and he pulled his robe closer together around her chest, a pair of his shorts all she’d bothered to don. They forgot where they were and he kissed her again, his hands on the small of her back.

“Oh! Bloody… _fuck_! Now it’s _all_ crispy.”

Yennefer preened while Jaskier whined.

\------

“You ruined your bacon.” They sat on Geralt’s bed, eating from the same plate.

“He burned it to spite me.” She crunched through another piece loudly.

“I thought you wanted to be single.” He shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

“I want to be my own person, there’s a difference. I thought you _never_ committed.” She countered.

He cleaned the plate and she climbed into his lap. “I guess the rules don’t pertain to you.” He shrugged, no better explanation coming to mind. “Next week is Christmas, have you been naughty, or nice?”

Yennefer grinned, untying the robe and tossing it over the side of his bed. “You know very well I’ve been naughty.” She took his hands and brought them to her breasts.

“What will you ask for from Santa?” He was rapidly losing his concentration, and forgetting where he was going with his line of questioning.

“I’m not sitting in your lap just because you’re a big guy with white hair.” He twisted her nipples gently and she pulled in a quick breath. “If you’re asking for real, maybe a date of my own? One I don’t have to try and win?”

His hands wrapped around her back and pulled her flush against his chest. “You’ve been pretty naughty. Seems like you’d better get real nice, real quick.” His palms slipped down inside the shorts and he traced the curves of her derriere.

She slid her own down the front of his sweatpants, wrapping her hand around the erection that began the moment the robe slipped from her shoulders. He leaned to press his lips to hers, and her hand mimicked his sweet movements. They didn’t have to hurry, she wasn’t planning on leaving any time soon.

“I was nice,” she explained between languid kisses, “I returned your coat.” He barely remembered what she was talking about, so soft and warm were her palms around his cock.

“You didn’t have to.” He traced his hands across her back and cupped the back of her head. “Keep it, it looks incredibly hot on you anyway.”

“You went from not committing, to being possessive.” She raised her eyebrow, but the small smile on her face never left. All she got in response was a deep grunt before he covered her lips again. Her hands had left him without a witty response, and close to finishing in his pants.

“ _Yennefer_.” She read the pleading tones in his voice, and let up her divine torture. She pulled her hands carefully and knelt on her knees to slip his shorts past her hips. His sweatpants were already gone when she righted herself, wrapping her hands around his neck.

His lips were on hers when he reached between her legs, her whimper swallowed up by his mouth and the quick swipes of his tongue past hers. Sliding into his lap and down his cock was like coming home, even the soreness from the night before couldn’t hide the relief and pleasure she felt when he was fully seated inside her.

“Geralt?” He didn’t respond, too lost and caught up in the feel of her to process her words. She squeezed and fluttered her pelvic muscles, his moan granting her his full attention. “Geralt,” she leaned back to watch his face, “fuck me, but don’t forget me.”

He captured her lips under his, hers swollen and rosy from his attention. She rocked up and down in his arms, hands braced on his shoulders for leverage. He kept her chin level with his, their noses nuzzling and lips caressing as she moved slowly, feeding the pulsing desire between them.

She tired and he took over her rhythm, hips thrusting up to meet hers, whispered moans and desperate sighs between their lips. Her breasts dragged along the fine mat of hair on his chest and she shuddered, fingers weaving up through his scalp.

“Yennefer, I’m - _fuck_ , I’m close.”

She groaned at his raspy tone, golden irises blown to black and intent on hers. “Please don’t stop, please, _oh_ , me too, I - “ He buried his hand in her dark curls and tipped her head back, the tingling pain pushing her over the edge.

“Look at me,” he commanded, when her lids shut and her jaw went slack. She forced her eyes back open, her fingernails digging into his skin and her hips canted toward his to feel every last sensation of the base of his cock on her clit.

Her thighs pulled close around his waist and she held on tight, his heavy gasps for air loud against her ear. She pushed closer to meet his sharp thrusts and watched the desperation ease from his face as he came hard, unintelligible syllables on his lips. She pressed her lips to his lightly as he came down, and his tongue mingled with hers when he returned to her.

He leaned back on the bed, bringing her with him. She played at the stubble darkening his chin. His voice rumbled to life again underneath her, “Is it too much to hope that you’ll come home with me next week? My parents are on a cruise, so no judgment. Lambert and my sisters will be there, you’ll find out more about me than you ever wanted to know.”

“Mmmm,” she pondered his offer. “I’ve got Christmas Eve at home, and I’ll be all yours.” She combed an errant white curl back from his forehead. “My dad is a bit, _much_. He’ll pull your USC jacket before you even get to the front door. Will he find any naughty surprises he’ll hold against us?”

“Not a one, I’m a veritable saint. Every father’s dream.” He punctuated his point by rolling his hips, hardening where he hadn’t bothered to pull away.

Yennefer rolled her eyes, shifting her hips back against his. “We’re so screwed.” She lamented.

Geralt smirked, “Yeah, you are baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I might be able to be talked into Valentine’s day. Maybe. XD  
> Again I promise to be nice to Eskel – he wasn’t a star here (only b/c I didn’t develop the story that far) and I made him famous and cool. My road to redemption.  
> Very rude Uber patrons they are.  
> Overboard is one of MY favs. Talk me out of it. 😇  
> Quotes are from the Shawshank Redemption.


	11. Austin, Texas - The Fire III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Rated E. Warning – This chapter contains a sexual F/F scene that is not the normal type of lovey scene you will typically see me write. While it's not graphic, it is a brief departure from my norm. Please use caution and sit this one out of those themes aren’t for you.

Yenenfer had shit to do. It had been a month since she was released from the hospital, and she was a fiend on crutches. An older man held the door for her as she walked from the post office. She felt refreshed, some loose ends finally tied. 

Three letters were headed to the Austin Fire Department, and she could stop feeling beholden to them. The first a letter for Lambert, thanking him for his role in her rescue. The second a letter addressed to the chief, but it would include his wife as well, thanking her for her kind considerations and the lovely socks she’d sent for her. The third and last was a _thank you_ note for Eskel, enclosed with a check for the value of her phone. 

She shut her car door and sighed heavily. She didn’t owe them anything anymore, she could forget them, forget him. 

The article had come out in the paper, and friends and acquaintances she forgot she had, came out of the woodwork to reach out and see if she was alright. It was a bit awkward when they asked about him, but they didn’t press her overly hard. Their photo and their answers to the reporter’s questions seemed like a lifetime ago, or simply a dream. 

She should have thought it her nightmare, to face death and come out on the other side only to be disappointed and lied to, but she couldn’t. It was simply one of those funny dreams when you wake and know it isn’t real, but it still leaves you feeling off the rest of the day. 

Yennefer hoped that tying up her loose ends and focusing on her future meant the end of her funk, and she could embrace her second chance with arms wide open. 

\------

Vesemir traced his palm up his wife’s back, moonlight guiding his way. He knew she wasn’t asleep, likely she was worrying about something, and he sought to distract her. He slid closer to her on the bed, wrapping his hand around her chest and laying kisses along her shoulder blade. Tissaia sighed and he had to hold back his groan of frustration, his erection already bothersome. 

“What is it beautiful?”

She rolled on her back and he propped himself up on his elbow, waiting to hear her troubles. The crème she used on her face at night smelled sweet and he drew his breath slowly to savor her. 

“I’m worried about our son.”

“Which one?” He played at the ties on her nightgown.

“You know very well which one. He’s lonely, there is pain in his eyes and I don’t like it.” 

He’d seen it too. Geralt was troubled, and the things that he normally found purpose in, no longer seemed to interest him. They’d been in the middle of remodeling his garage when he’d gone on that call for the preschool, and he hadn’t touched it ever since. Hadn’t called Vesemir for help or advice, hadn’t invited him over to work on his plans. 

“It’s the girl.” Vesemir sighed. At first they had simply written off his interest in her as the chivalrous young man they raised, knowing she needed his help. It wasn’t long before Tissaia was certain that Geralt wanted to pursue her, his smiles more frequent and his schedule blissfully busy with her. Vesemir had been a bit more skeptical, knowing how grateful victims could be, and wondering if she cared for the man, or the idea of him. Whether their interactions had been romantic and genuine or not, it had all abruptly ended and left Geralt in the wind. 

“Of course it’s her. I’ve never known anything but love and loss to bring a man so low. How can we help him?”

“He knows we’re here for him love, time will bring him back.” 

“What could have happened, do you think? Maybe she got overwhelmed, she’s young.” 

Tissaia had paraded around the kitchen with the newspaper proudly when she saw her son’s bashful face on the front page. The woman he’d saved was only twenty-four, only a year or so from having finished school. Geralt did not love halfheartedly, and perhaps the difference in their ages was what had driven them apart. Maybe she wasn’t ready to settle on one man.

“Only Geralt knows what went on, and he’s grown. He’ll find another soon enough. He has his father’s good looks after all.” Tissaia tsked, and he smirked. Eskel had gotten his mother’s rich brown hair and soft eyes, and Geralt, Vesemir’s unique white hair and striking irises.

“What?” He questioned with a grin, “They worked on _you._ ” He bent low to kiss her breast through the silky material and she relented, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

———

Yennefer leaned on the shopping cart, her crutches safely stowed in the basket. She turned into the baking isle, the grocery store quiet so late at night. She preferred to come at night, less people to crowd her, fewer children running lose who might bump her cart and jostle her stance. 

It was Audrey’s third birthday that weekend, and Sabrina had asked her to bring a simple dessert. She chose one of her mother’s cake recipes that called for a Jello mixture to be added to the cake once baked. It was fresh and light, and perfect for the occasion. She rolled the cart to the display of little blue mixes and stopped cold. The fruit punch sat right next to the cherry. 

She bypassed them both and grabbed the grape. “Yennefer?” She dropped the little box into her cart as she jumped in surprise. It was Triss, her old boss. The very same one who had _yet_ to inquire how she was doing after the fire. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

She wanted to say no, her leg was beginning to feel fatigued, but instead she answered, “I’m doing well, thank you. I’ve only got a minute.” 

Triss stumbled and apologized for not asking after her. She handed Yennefer a fat envelope, and told her she hoped that made up for it. Yennefer tipped it to the side and saw it was filled with one hundred dollar bills. “It’s yours, I just need you to sign this.” 

She set the envelope down and flipped through the fat packet of paper. She would not testify, nor speak of the events of December twenty-third, and she would forfeit her rights to sue Triss and her daycare for any of her injury. “Why does it say testify on here? What aren’t you telling me?” Yennefer narrowed her eyes and read more, “And the fire caused one of the fireman injuries too, he was treated for smoke inhalation.” 

“He’s already signed. He took the money with a _thank you_ , and I was hoping you’d do the same.” 

That didn’t seem like Geralt at all, but really, what did she know of him. It seemed the more time went on, she knew very little. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I can’t sign this.”

Triss scrunched up her face in disgust. “You’ll never win!”

“Win what Triss? I’m not suing you. I obviously haven’t won.” Yennefer gestured to the crutches in her cart. She wore long pants, but her uneven gait belied her pain. 

Triss stormed away, leaving Yennefer to wonder how on earth she found her in the heart of the supermarket in the middle of the night. With the state she was in, she wouldn’t put it past Triss to lie about Geralt already having signed. 

Yennefer understood when she got a call from an Austin detective the next week. The Fire Marshall had ruled the blaze an arson, and they were charging Triss with setting it for the insurance pay out. 

She wanted to break down when she hung up the phone and realized that all of her suffering could have been avoided. Her hands, her leg, _him_ – all of the things that caused her pain in the last few months were for nothing but greed.

\------

Weights clanged as Geralt loaded them on the bar. A few extra for that set, he wanted to feel the burn of over exerting himself. He puffed air through his cheeks and grunted at the weight pushing back at him. It was five in the morning, and he was alone in the gym.

She’d used him. In all fairness, he’d allowed her to, presenting his heart on his sleeve and going out of his way without being asked.

What did a beautiful young woman want with an old man anyway? Christ, he was almost eight years her senior, that alone should have been a warning bell for him. It was better that she left now, rather than a year down the road when she couldn’t handle his overnight shifts alone in their bed. 

Eskel walked in and joined him quietly. Neither man made a move to greet the other, and they exercised in companionable silence for the longest time. When Geralt could no longer summon the strength to lift the heavy bar, he moved to a machine that would strengthen his legs, and Eskel finally spoke. 

“Can I help?” He twisted and pulled on an abdominal machine. 

“Can you make me less of an idiot? That’s about the only thing that’ll do it at this point.” Geralt sat up on the bench and caught his breath.  
  
“Maybe she’s the idiot.” 

Geralt’s features darkened. “No.” 

That in itself was telling. Geralt loved the woman and something had imploded between them. When Geralt continued, Eskel knew he would be the only one to hear him share, so he’d best pay attention. 

“She told me that she wasn’t my responsibility and I didn’t listen. I pushed and smothered her, when she was trapped in a hospital bed. The second she got free, she was done.”

It wouldn’t be the first time a woman had accused him of not giving her space. He was a big guy, and under the surface he _felt_ just as large. Quiet and uncomfortable with crowds and attention, those close to him knew a different man. Fiercely protective and endlessly patient, he would do anything for the people he loved. 

Seeing him so tortured struck a nerve with Eskel. "She left for a reason brother, let her go. It sounds cliché, but it's her loss."

"Yeah." He agreed begrudgingly and gripped the bar again. "Feels like it was me that did the losing." 

\--------

Yennefer was running from herself. 

Soft hands palmed her breasts firmly, blunt teeth nipping and trailing down her sternum. Philippa had been coming on to her since she first began commissioning Yennefer’s paintings, and it wasn’t a far jump from the door to her bed when she arrived to pick up her latest work. 

Philippa had commented on the dark nature of the piece, and had asked if Yennefer was alright. She wasn’t alright, and she didn’t know what would make her so. Philippa was beautiful, but she harbored a cruel streak borne of privilege and expectation. Yennefer found that appealing at the moment, a harsh embrace and a stark contrast with the past’s tender touch. 

She paid no mind to Yennefer’s leg, the loud slap of her palm on the pale skin of her rear cracked through the quiet room. He never cared about her, just another victim, a project. Yennefer’s back arched off of the bed and her dark curls dragged across the sheets. She’d never been with a woman, but she was beginning to understand the appeal, Philippa’s tongue enchanted and driving her to the brink quickly. 

Yennefer tangled her fingers in Philippa’s sweet smelling hair, her wicked gaze fixed to deep purple as she buried three slender fingers as far as she could. Yennefer swore at the unexpected intrusion and moaned low in her throat. Philippa was relentless, the curl of her fingers and the firm pressure of her lips brought Yennefer crashing through her orgasm. She pitched and rolled under the older woman’s strong grasp, her chest heaving and knees shaking beyond her control as her climax carried on and on. 

“Oh, my little flower, you’ve been wasting your time with men.” Philippa licked her lips as though she was a mischievous cat who’d gotten into the crème. “I’m going to enjoy this too, roll over and let me get something from my purse.” 

She left the room for a moment and Yennefer rolled over shakily. She laid her head to the side, taking big breaths, every nerve ending between her legs firing belatedly like ill-timed fireworks. She looked back over her shoulder when she heard Philippa return, the sound of a leather strap crisp in her ears. 

\------

Yennefer awoke early, the sun had yet to rise, Philippa’s soft snores and expensive perfume overpowering to her senses. Her calf was sore, she’d overdone it. She cursed under her breath, the corners of her eyes gritty from tears long dried. Her own voice echoed in her ears, begging Philippa for release.

She sat up and realized her crutches were in the next room, Philippa had half carried her to the bed. She slipped down off of the sheets to the carpet and pulled herself along, grateful the other woman was still asleep. From her position on the floor she had a perfect view of _the_ sweater, dejected on the floor of her closet, and she cursed again. 

Yennefer made it to the bathroom and pulled herself up the counter, the woman staring back one she wasn’t sure she knew. Philippa had marked her pale skin, a bite mark on her shoulder and finger shaped bruises on both of her hips. Her breasts were littered with crescent nail marks and light blotchy bruises. She was sore, thirsty, and confused. 

Philippa had made her _feel_ , just like she had hoped. She felt pain and pleasure, that she was desirable, and that she’d been used. The feeling that hadn’t left, was the emptiness that sat heavy in her chest. The nasty mixture of loneliness and rejection that plagued her thoughts was still there. She gripped the edge of the sink and her tears came like slow moving lava, hot and unstoppable.

\------

Geralt didn’t know what he was running toward, but it decidedly wasn’t going to be to this woman. Fringilla had texted him a few times after their friendly dinner, and it was obvious now that he needed to move on. Move on from what had only been in his head. Move on from _her._

Fringilla droned on as they walked through the buffet line. Her dark hair reminded him of a certain someone, but the comparison ended there. She’d talked endlessly about herself when they’d gone to dinner before, and he should have known she would thrill their table with tales of how well loved she was. 

Installation dinner for the firehouse had changed for him over the years. It used to be full of excitement while he waited to see if he was selected to receive awards and to be recognized for his efforts. Now he was the one giving the awards, and it was so fulfilling to encourage and reward the younger members under his command. She was sucking the enjoyment from the room. 

Essi had drawn the short straw, and sat on her other side. Frantically she nodded in agreement when Fringilla asked her to agree with her stance on something he didn’t even care to know about. The dinner wouldn’t be through for another half an hour, and then he could leave the table and present the honors to his men and woman.

Geralt excused himself for the restroom, and Essi gave him a suspicious glare. Eskel rubbed her back gently, hoping to prolong her patience for the woman, lest he be the one left alone with her. 

The restrooms in the hotel were clean and comfortable, and Geralt took his time. He leaned heavily against one of the sinks, letting his mind run and trying to kill a little time. He didn't think anything of it when someone else entered behind him, until trim arms wrapped around his waist from behind. 

"Fringilla! The _men_ 's room." He hadn't meant to scold her, but she startled him. 

"Relax baby, I propped the door shut behind me." Her voice wrapped around him like velvet. She slid between his knees and the sink, unzipping his slacks with a practiced hand. 

" _Fringilla_." 

She disregarded his tone and yanked his boxers down his thighs, curling her tongue over his cock hungrily. He grunted and pitched forward to grab the sink again, her touch aggressive. _Jesus_ , he needed to stop this, he wasn't planning on asking her out again and it wasn't fair. 

She moaned and the sound echoed off the tile, the vibrations ecstasy to his sensitive skin. He slammed his eyes shut for a moment when she rolled him in her palm, and when he opened them again he caught their reflection in the mirror. 

His own mind betrayed him, picturing the soft dark hair belonging to someone else. It was another woman who bobbed between his legs and clutched at his muscular thighs. He wove his hand through her hair gently and she moved faster, adding more suction, thrilled that he was through protesting. 

\------

"What in the _fucking_ hell were you thinking!" Vesemir's voice boomed in the small space of Geralt's office. 

"I was _trying_ to save his life, trying to do my job." Geralt practically snarled his response. The rest of the men made themselves scarce, not wanting to get between father and son. 

"You know better, _God damnit_. You're lucky, so damn lucky it didn't collapse!" Vesemir paced, arms in the air to accompany his swearing. 

"There was a chance he was alive, I had to -"

Vesemir grabbed Geralt by the arms, something he hadn't done since he was a boy. "I would have had to go home and tell your mother that our son got himself killed, playing God. It was a stupid risk, and don't you _ever_ put me in that position again." Geralt tried to argue back, and Vesemir cut him off. "Accidents happen, but are you trying to kill yourself? Are you suicidal over that woman? Tell me right now, and don't you dare lie to me." 

Geralt tried to leave the room, pulling free of his grasp. "I don't have to stand here and listen to this. Calm down and we'll talk about it when you can be rational." His father wasn't easy to anger, but once he was there, he raged. Geralt turned the doorknob. 

"You're grounded. You're manning dispatch until further notice. Until I can decide if you're stable enough to do this job anymore." Geralt froze. "You found her alive when she should have been gone. It was a fucking miracle, but you can't think like that and expect to make it to thirty-five. The rules are there to keep you safe. You won't be able to save _anyone_ if you end up dead."

Geralt sighed and sat in the chair heavily. 

"The department has counselors, shrinks, all kinds of people who are there to help. I know we all laugh about them, but I want you to talk to one. Please, for your mother and I." 

———

Yennefer waited outside the courtroom on a bench, expecting someone from the District Attorney’s office to come fetch her in order to testify. A single crutch laid propped against the wall behind her, leaving room for Sabrina to sit with two small cups of steaming coffee. She sipped it gratefully, the day particularly cold, letting the cup warm her hand. 

The large marble foyer did little to hold heat and Yennefer shivered in the cardigan that clung to her arms. She wore a long, flowing dress, intent on showing the jury her calf. It was healing nicely, but it would always be scarred, and the muscle would likely never regain it’s supple strength. If she had to look at it everyday, they should have to see it too.

The door squealed open down the way from the two women, and they both cursed as a brisk wind rolled through the room. Two tall figures in dark blue suits entered, and Yennefer looked up just as they sat on the bench across from the women. 

Her heart stopped in her chest. He hadn’t signed the papers. He sat in his full dress uniform, his eyes fixed to hers with a haunted expression. She dragged her gaze over to see the older man with him, he had the same white hair and handsome features, more golden plaques and ribbons on his shoulders. This was his father, the chief. 

She looked back at Geralt and the muscle in his jaw jumped. He wanted to say something, but he was holding back. Yennefer would speak, she had nothing to be ashamed of. 

“She told me you signed.” Her voice seemed overly loud under the large room’s high ceilings. 

He cleared his throat. “She told me you did too. I wasn’t alright with her walking after what she did to you.” 

Vesemir listened with veiled curiosity, and Sabrina was less subtle, hanging on their every word. 

“She hurt you too. Ruined your holiday.” She finally met Vesemir’s eyes and immediately felt that he was trying to figure her out, to see what kind of woman she was. 

“My holiday wasn’t ruined.” He argued. 

The court clerk came through the doors and called for Yennefer. She stood up carefully, and brushed off Sabrina’s offer of her crutch. Sabrina held her arm snugly and they walked toward the doors. She paused for a moment, “I hope you’re doing well Geralt. Thank you for coming today.” She gave him a half smile before the entered the courtroom. 

\------

She was stunningly beautiful to him. Her eyes were brighter, her cheeks flushed from the chill. The last time he’d seen her in real clothes, the paramedics had cut them off of her. He could close his eyes and feel her lips on his as though it was just an hour ago they’d been there. He could tell she was nervous, but he hoped it was about testifying, and not related to his presence. 

Sabrina came back out to sit on their bench, the courtroom closed to visitors. She couldn’t help but notice the striking similarities between the two men. Outside of the harsh glare of the fluorescent hospital lighting, he really was handsome. A handsome devil that had broken her friend’s heart. 

Geralt spoke up, “Is she alright, truly?”

If Sabrina was surprised that he spoke to her, she didn’t show it. “She’s not the same, and I’m not talking about her leg.” She straightened a crease in her slacks, working to keep her tone even. “Seeing you with that woman broke something in her, but it’ll heal in time.” 

He was wholly confused. “What woman?”

She seemed insulted that he would play games with her. “The woman at the restaurant. Short cropped dark hair, pretty features, talked a lot. Awfully young.” She added the last bit as an additional jab. Vesemir sat quietly absorbing their exchange. 

The expression on his face showed his disbelief as the pieces began to fall into place. “That was nothing. A favor for my elderly neighbor, to show her granddaughter around Austin. It was barely friendly.” 

Sabrina swallowed hard, not sure if she could trust a word out of his mouth. “She deserves the best Geralt, don’t come after her. She’s finally getting her life together. Let her be.” She prayed she was taking the right course with him. 

Thick wooden doors opened and Sabrina met Yennefer with her crutch. Once she was steady they made their way to the exit. The clerk called for Geralt, and he and Vesemir stood. 

Geralt’s mind raced. Everything finally made sense, her not wanting to be his _second choice_. He wanted to call out after her, but the clerk urged them inside, and he saw the last glimpse of her dark curls as they exited to the courtyard. Fucking _fuck_.

\-----

-Months Later-

First graders would be the death of her. Safety day had them all riled up, running around in circles until a small shoe caught on an easel leg and they almost had a paint disaster. The first responder volunteers were rotating around the school, and the policewoman that had just left her classroom had the children all excited.

“Alright everyone, please settle down.” The kids returned to their seats for the most part, and a hollow whooshing sound came from the hallway. They whispered and watched as a tall figure entered the room. He wore a large black suit, helmet, and air whispered through his oxygen tank.

Keira had briefed all the teachers, letting them know the nature of the demonstrations. The suit and mask could be scary for a child, especially if they encountered one in an emergency situation.

The fireman walked to the front of the classroom, and released his mouthpiece, taking off his mask and helmet. She wasn’t surprised to see shock white hair and chiseled bone structure.

She had a feeling that fate would not put a fireman in her classroom, and still allow her heart to beat without wrenching it.

The children listened to him, fascinated. “Raise your hand if you know what _stop, drop, and roll_ means.” Small hands went up hesitantly.

She watched him from behind, reminding herself that he was there for the children, not solely to torture her. She also reminded herself to breathe every few moments, the cotton of her white sundress suddenly hugging her chest too tightly.

It had rattled her to see him during the trial, and seeing him so close that day was no less unsettling. She would overcome it as she had before, as well as the nagging thoughts that she should have begged him to give up the other woman, or that she should have simply ignored her just to be near him.

He laughed at something little Bridget said and she gripped the marker in her hand harder, willing the smile to remain on her face. His voice worked to wrap its way around her body and tested her resolve. She crossed her legs under her desk and pretended not to notice the fine sheen of perspiration that had formed on the back of his neck from the heavy equipment.

It was a good thing she knew he was good at his job and so knowledgeable, because she hadn’t a clue what the discussion had been about since “roll”.

Thomas raised his hand and Geralt called on him. “Miss V was in a fire, at our old school.”

Geralt froze, unsure of how she’d want him to proceed. He was forced to look her way, and when he did, he knew he’d made the right choice.

He had to try, one last time, to get her back. He’d left her alone as her friend begged him to, but seeing her at the courthouse had only strengthened his desire to be with her. She’d run thinking he’d been a dishonest pig, and he wouldn’t be able to move on until he had explained himself and saw her face when she turned him away.

Yennefer was a vision, her dark curls that he knew to be soft and silky were twisted in a pile on her head. The graceful slope of her neck led to a thin sweater decorated with little blue roses that contrasted with her light dress. Her feet were perched underneath her desk, but he didn’t see her crutches nearby.

She watched him cautiously, her eyes sharp and her expression neutral. She nodded efficiently, fine with the children knowing about her experience.

“That’s right, she was in a fire. Thankfully she did not need to stop drop and roll, but she was very brave. She stayed calm and called for help. It’s very important to tell a grown up if any people or animals are still inside, once _you’re_ safely outside.”

Another hand. “When she called for help, did someone come?”

“Yes, two fire fighters found her and helped her to safety. They carried flashlights and axes.” He tried to make the story as educational as possible.

A boy from the back corner. “My mom burned our garlic toast and there was a lot of smoke.”

Geralt smiled. “That’s a very good point. She did another very smart thing, Miss V. held her shirt over her mouth to stop the smoke.”

———

“Have a nice night Margarita.” Yennefer ducked her head into the classroom across the hall, their music room decorated with music notes and full of little instruments that provided the soundtrack to her day.

She grabbed her purse. “I’m ready, let me walk out with you.”

Yennefer was taking a risk with the strappy wedges she wore, but she was doing well. She used a simple cane if she had a particularly tiring day, but for some reason that evening she couldn’t be bothered to focus on the fatigue in her leg. His visit, even though he hadn’t spoken with her, would claim her thoughts for a good while.

The two women walked to the parking lot together, and both stopped in their tracks when they realized there was a massive red ladder truck blocking their path. Geralt stood before her, a few curious faces peering from the cab.

He’d stripped his equipment and remained only in a tight white t-shirt and a thin pair of sweatpants. He uncrossed his thick arms and she suddenly wished for her cane.

“Yenenfer,” he stepped closer and Margarita patted her on the shoulder, turning to head toward her car. “Two minutes is all I ask, please.”

She would have granted him the time, but his heartfelt ‘please’ sealed the deal. She could smell just a hint of his antiperspirant, the suit having been stifling for five different classes. The late spring breeze blew her skirt around her knees, unafraid to show her scars.

“The woman with me at the restaurant was only an acquaintance. My elderly neighbor’s granddaughter, who had just moved to Austin. I had agreed to show her around before we met. It was barely even friendly.” He swallowed hard and waited for her to process the information.

Yennefer shifted her weight to her good leg, and someone in the truck accidentally bumped the horn. Irritation flickered across his face as one of the men whispered, _Jaskier!_ and she heard a light scuffle.

All she had was his word, but he’d gone to an awful lot of trouble to lie to her. After all the months that had passed, he stood in front of her, trying to change her mind. _God_ she wanted to change it, more than anything.

“Why now?” It was a start.

“I never knew what happened until Sabrina told me, the day of Triss’s trial. I just thought you changed your mind, maybe used me a little.”

Her nostrils flared at his gentle accusation. “You understand now how it looked.”

He nodded. “I do.” He paused, his eyes never left hers. “You look well.” He meant her spirits as well as her leg.

Geralt went for it, lowing his voice. “I still think about you every day.” Her eyes widened. “I gave you the space that you asked for, but I took this assignment on purpose. I miss you, and I had to tell you that.”

She stared, unemotional, frozen.

He got his face to face rejection. He took a step back, defeat overcoming his features. He nodded, taking her non response as answer enough, when she pitched forward heavily into his arms. Small hands wrapped around his shoulders tightly, and he held her close, her forehead pressed to his cheek.

“I missed you so much.” Her voice brought him back to countless hours of stories and conversation, her tones soft and feminine. “I’m sorry.” She pulled away a bit to look up at him.

“I’m sorry too. So sorry.” _Time_ , they had wasted it. He tipped his face and brushed his lips across hers, like he’d imagined so many times since she left him.

She leaned up and captured his lower lip, trailing her hands up the back of his neck.

“Yeah!” One of the men in the cab shouted, and all hell broke loose. Margarita clapped from where she’d stopped at her car to make sure Yennefer was alright. Arms banged on doors and a chorus of “ _Alright_!”, and “ _Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!_ ”s filled the previously quiet parking lot.

Geralt tightened his arms around her back and her sandals lifted off the pavement. He used her smile as an excuse to greet her tongue with his and his hands slid lower, lifting her into his arms.

The truck’s external speaker blared to life and “ _Yeaaaaahhh Buddy!_ ”, echoed across the lot.

She pulled away from his lips regretfully, her knees hugging him tight. “Is that the one...?”

He groaned, “Yes, Jaskier.” She laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

———

“You never cooked for me while I was in the hospital, I had no idea you were so talented.” Yennefer chewed his chicken marsala thoughtfully.

Geralt shrugged, “I didn’t want to bring you leftovers. You deserved something to look forward to, not cold spaghetti.”

Yennefer was certain that what she’d been looking forward to, was him. She smiled, her knife slicing through the tender meat. “I think if this dinner is any indication, I’d eat anything you made. I myself, can toast a wicked pop tart, and my ramen is known worldwide.”

She was impressed that he was able to whip up such an _adult_ meal with no notice. Her car was still in the school lot, and she’d ridden back to the fire house on Geralt’s lap. Primly perched there in the cab of the firetruck, sandwiched between Jaskier and a man she hadn’t heard about.

The men had all joked and carried on while Geralt’s brother drove the large vehicle, but she had been content to feel his heartbeat against hers once again. She agreed to see his house, and she had to admit that it was an inviting home. Her sweater, sandals and purse had landed in a pile on the stairs and hadn’t moved since.

They sat at his table comfortably, as though she’d been there a hundred times before. She crossed her legs and nudged her toes against his calf. “Wiggle,” his smile betrayed his stern tone. Her toes obeyed and he squeezed her hand.

Suddenly he sobered, and she waited for the other shoe to drop. “I should have told you about showing her around town, and I won’t make that mistake again. I called her, about a month after we went our separate ways.”

Yennefer raised her brow, but left her expression neutral so he would continue.

“I took her to a firehouse dinner, and it was a disaster. I tried to feel something for her, but all I could come up with was that her hair resembled yours.” His hand reached up to run over the arch of her cheek. “She wasn’t the right fit at all, and I never saw her again.”

Yennefer leaned her cheek into his palm, remembering how lonely she’d been and understanding how he must have felt. He stood and began clearing the table, rinsing their dishes in the sink. She approached him from behind, leaning into his back and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Can we have a drink on your balcony, you can show me the view?”

The master bedroom boasted a small deck on the second floor, and they watched the sun go down together. Yennefer sipped her beer, her legs folded over his lap on a thickly cushioned deck chair.

“I slept with a woman.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the abruptness of her confession, or her words that stopped his hand from rubbing circles on her back. She lifted her head from his shoulder when he swallowed hard, waiting for the rest of her story.

“It wasn’t the right fit either. Just a fling really, with one of my wealthier art clients. I wasn’t in the best place, I felt numb.” His hand sought hers, knowing the way she felt, the same as she’d known his own suffering.

Yennefer set her beer down and took his hand, laying it under her breast. “She broke through and made me feel, but not _here_.”

“And now?” His thumb ghosted across her skin.

“Can’t you feel?” She covered his hand with her own. “Can’t you feel how it races for you? How it gallops, and flutters, and stutters, and - “

His kiss silenced her rambling, their embrace heavy with lust and longing. She wasn’t sure if it was the talk of her sleeping with someone else, or the accumulated want of months apart, but they were desperate. She turned in his arms and his hand covered her breast through her dress.

“Yennefer,” his voice was raspy as her hands slid up his chest. “We don’t have to, if you don’t - “ she pressed two fingers to his lips.

“I want to,” she slid her leg past his and straddled his lap, “I want to so badly.” Her words were husky and whispered, and he couldn't get enough of her. The tie fell from his hair when her eager fingers carded through it, his mouth on her neck. Her breathy little sighs fueled his erection, her center warm through her panties and his thin pants.

His hands followed up her thighs to the supple flesh of her derrière. She moaned when he moved her over his lap, her lips trailing down the hollow of his throat, fingers tugging on his shirt. He pulled off his t-shirt and her lips descended on his chest.

He lowered the zipper on the back of her dress, and it pooled at her waist. He was speechless when her bra slid down past her fingertips and she sat in his arms, clad only in her white lace panties. “Jesus,” he traced the curve of her petite breast, her nipples quickly pebbling in the evening air. “You’re so beautiful.”

He couldn’t resist taking her pale pink nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue gently and tasting her creamy skin. “Not so beautiful _everywhere_.” She pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, one hand holding him close, the other massaging the broad muscles in his shoulder. She wasn’t looking for pity, but resigned to her her altered appearance.

Geralt was having none of it, hauling her against his chest and climbing from the chair. He carried her through the door and into his bedroom, his bed made neatly as though it waited for her. He laid her in the center of the comforter, slipping her dress the rest of the way down her legs.

He caught her foot, placing a kiss on her instep. He looked her in the eyes before moving to her calf, his touch light as he ran his palm over her scars. He nuzzled his face to her skin, and she bit her lip, her hand falling to his cheek. He kissed her tenderly, moving up her thigh.

“You _are_ beautiful, every part of you.”

“Shut up.” Her whispered words were harsh, but her expression soft, his chin cradled in her palm. He shook his head at her denial, finding the band of her panties with his teeth. She leaned up and he took the invitation to slide them down her legs carefully.

His warm breath on her flushed skin brought her anticipation to a fevered pitch, and she ran her fingernails down his back. His tongue painted a path through her folds and she moaned, having thought about that very moment far too often.

She laid back on the bed and let him work, her knees parting to give him more room to move, his mouth laying claim to her clit with varied licks and firm sucks. A long arm climbed her body to cup her breast and the fingers of his other hand played at her entrance.

He was everywhere at once, overwhelming and yet not enough. “Geralt,” she begged, rolling her hips to force more of his fingers inside. Her breaths were stuttered and the pins that had held her hair laid across the blanket, her curls having escaped as she squirmed and wriggled.

He groaned, his erection painful and the sweet sounds she made music to his ears. Her whimpered cries increased in volume and her hand wound with his over her breast. Her nails dug into her thigh when she gave in, her breathless wail startling them both.

He slowed, her trembling a sweet reward for his efforts, the taste of her heady on his lips. She laid catching her breath and he crawled up her body slowly, mapping her with his eyes and fingertips until he laid next to her and she rolled into his chest.

Her lips found his and she slipped her hand down his abdominals, past the band of his sweatpants and underneath his boxers. Her lips curled to a smirk when she felt how hard he was, and her eyes widened when further investigation revealed his size proportionate to the rest of his large body.

“Condom,” she whispered, slinking down to his navel and tugging down his pants while he reached behind him to the nightstand. He propped himself up on his shoulder, plastic wrapper crinkled in his hand when she took him in her mouth. He groaned, watching his cock disappear past her lips inch by inch, her mouth warm and heavenly.

She was torture and bliss, her dark hair tickling his thighs and the pull of her mouth exquisite. He longed to watch her weave her spell for hours, and he might not be a teenager, but he knew he wouldn’t last much longer against her eager tongue.

“Yennefer,” he murmured, cradling her cheek in his hand. She released him slowly, her attention gentle, and he immediately missed her touch. She reached for the wrapper with a sly smile, her lips pink and swollen and her deep eyes shining. He pressed wet kisses to her lips as she rolled her hands down his cock from tip to base, a hungry hum in her throat.

Her whimper was tempered by his lips as she sank down on his erection, his hands on her hips to steady her. She swore at the tight fit and nipped at his mouth when he moved below her. He wanted to give her time, but he simply couldn’t wait, his shallow upward thrusts steady and sure.

She caught up with him and chose her own pace, her palms braced against his chest and her breasts swaying with her effort. He’d built up that moment in his mind against his will, and the reality of her was so much better than anything he could have imagined. She was a goddess, her pleasured expression and the feel of her body over his was a combination he’d never forget.

She moaned, bowing her head as she moved, her passes falling out of rhythm. He rolled them over quickly, and the shift in the angle of his cock pulled a filthy swear from her lips. She pulled her knees up tight and dragged her nails up his back.

He fumbled to press his thumb to her clit and she arched up off of the bed against his chest, her fingers sinking into the flesh of his rear and holding him close. He lost it when her breasts pressed to his chest and her body beckoned him closer, the sweet clench of her muscles forcing his surrender.

He bucked his hips into hers hard, pressing her deep against the mattress, his guttural groans and hot breath damp against her neck. He soared and then floated, this body weightless as pleasure burst and slowly ebbed, reaching every last nerve ending.

He was weightless until he wasn’t, and her whisper reached his ears, “Geralt…Geralt, I can’t -“ He was up on all fours in a second and she took a deep breath, a lazy smile on her face as her hands fell from his waist.

“Christ, are you alright?” He moved the curls that had fallen across her face, and she nodded. She leaned up to kiss him, his hair wild and lips as swollen as hers. He climbed off the bed and ducked into the bathroom to dispose of the condom, and when he returned she was half asleep.

He pulled the bedding down and slid her underneath it, “I’ll be right back.” She hummed her agreement sank down into his pillow. Geralt smirked and locked the balcony door before crawling in next to her.

———

Yennefer woke early, thinking she had to get ready to teach, realizing soon enough where she was, and that it was Saturday. He was curled around her like a twist tie, a heavy arm thrown over her side, keeping her close. She smiled, unweaving their limbs carefully and immediately regretting the loss of his warm chest against hers when she sat on the edge of the bed.

Two bottles of water sat on the nightstand, and her cane was propped against the wall subtly, should she need it. She looked back at his slumbering form, wondering how on earth he’d gone so long and managed to stay single.

He’d been mindful of her leg and she didn’t actually need the cane, but the water was refreshing. She made her way to the bathroom and relieved herself, the image in the mirror nothing like it had been months ago.

She couldn’t shake the small, dopey smile that formed in the corner of her mouth, and the mark he’d left on her neck was low and light in color. She was sore, but it was a pleasant ache, rather than the punishment she’d thought herself deserving of.

He woke up when she climbed back into his arms, his breath fanning her hair over her chin, and she burrowed closer when he left kisses on her temple. “Feel alright?” His voice was low and a bit ragged from sleep.

“Yes.” She squeezed the bicep closest to her face. “You?”

“I feel old. I think I’m going to have to leave some of the lifting and hit the cardio machines to keep up with my younger woman.”

She hummed, “You’re not old, but I’ll help you with more cardio.” His finger brought her chin level with his and he gave her a sweet kiss.

“Are you? _My_ …younger woman?”

She gave him a hard time. “What are you asking? Will I move in and have your babies?”

He sucked in a breath. “Well I wasn’t going to pressure you, but if you’re offering…”

She smiled at the mischievous expression that took over his face. “Yeah, I think I’m your _something_.” Her leg rested on his and she flexed her ankle, unconcerned that the uneven muscle of her calf was flush against his.

“She got eight years in prison.” His hand trailed warmth up and down her back.

“The prosecutor told me.” She played in the light mat of hair on his chest. “She got eight years, and I got 1.8 million.” She waited patiently for the news to register on his face. Golden hazel eyes widened in shock. “It’s a good thing we met when I was still a starving artist, or I’d think you were just into me for my money.”

“Fuck.” His mind raced from one thing to another. She wouldn’t have to worry about the rest of her medical bills, and she could choose _if_ and _when_ she took on commissioned paintings. “Maybe you won’t have to work for a certain woman patron any longer?”

Her lips curled into a smirk. “Are you being possessive, or jealous?”

“Which one makes you less mad?”

She laughed, ready to tease him again, when there was a loud knock on the front door. The bedroom windows were open, and they could hear his neighbor’s somewhat shrill voice from the front door below.

Another knock. “ _Geralt, son, are you home_?”

He groaned, letting his head fall back down to the pillow. “It’s my neighbor, she’s like a dog with a bone.”

“ _Geralt, your truck is in the garage, I know you’re home. I need a favor, please_!”

He made to get up and she stopped him, her hand on his shoulder. “This is the woman with the lonely, pushy granddaughter?” He nodded.

Yennefer sat up, stretching her back before climbing down from the bed and pulling his robe from where it was thrown over the chair near his closet. “Let me take this one. My turn to be possessive.” She gave him a wink before heading for the stairs.

———

-Epilogue-

Their third Christmas together looked nothing like their first. Well, Yennefer napped, but that was the extent of the similarities. Vesemir and Tissaia’s home glowed with holiday lights, and hummed with activity.

Eskel and Essi’s girls ran circles around the furniture in the room and giggled excitedly. Emmaline (Emma), Eleanor (Nora) and Evelyn (Evie) were four, and finally old enough to truly enjoy all that Christmas had to offer. Gifts were heaped underneath the tree in great piles, everything in triplicate.

“ ‘ey, leave some for your brother.” Vesemir scolded as Eskel loaded his plate with shrimp.

“He can get his own, dad.” Eskel shrugged and Tissaia scoffed, making up a plate for Geralt.

She carried it across the kitchen and leaned over the back of the sofa, handing him the plate. “Thanks mom.”

She patted his shoulder and smiled down at Yennefer’s slumbering form. She’d nodded off with his arm around her, and ended up asleep in his lap. Tissaia took a folded afghan from behind another chair and draped it over her legs.

Vesemir helped the girls with an old fashioned train that looped wide around the base of the tree, while Eskel sat on the opposite sofa with his wife. “How can she sleep with all this racket?” He gestured to Yennefer’s peaceful expression, Geralt’s fingers running through her hair.

“It’s hard work making two babies at once.” Essi retorted. “You’ll recall when these three were all in here at the same time?” He knew better than to argue with her, giving her a kiss on the cheek instead. “Your mother escaped our fate, and how, I’ll never know.”

Vesemir preened, “I was considerate of your mother, you boys were just greedy.”

Geralt shook his head, and Eskel took his bait. “Like we had any control over that. That’s like saying we had a say in whether they were boys or girls.”

Tissaia had joined the children and Vesemir on the floor. “If the babies are girls we’ll have all kinds of clothes and toys already.”

“They don’t need our hand-me-downs, they’re all fancy with their big new house.” Eskel offered, making a face that Geralt returned. 

“Geralt,” Yennefer whispered, opening her eyes slowly, “did your brother just say I’m as big as a house?”

“He wouldn’t dare.”

She dabbed at her eyes, trying to wake up fully. “If he does, I want you to beat him up.”

“Yes sweetie, my pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I was mean to Philippa again, but someone’s gotta pay the price! I don’t think fruit punch is a real jello flavor, is it?  
> The whole shrimp thing is real in my family - every Christmas we all fight over it like a pack of dogs until it's gone. The spirit of the season XD  
> Merry Christmas all! <3


	12. Juneau, Alaska - The Asylum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is dark, ngl!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Trigger warnings, infant death. Rated T.

He couldn’t stop looking at her. From the moment they walked her into the day room, he’d been transfixed by her quiet presence. Her long, obsidian hair hung rather limply down her back in a braid one of the nurses must have done for her. Her skin was flawless, but pale, and her eyes the most unique shade of purple.

She wore no jewelry, they’d taken it away like they’d done for the rest of them. No one would stab another with an earring, or swallow their wedding band. Not on old Nancy’s watch. His gaze pulled briefly to the tough as nails nurse who glared out at them from behind plexiglass.

He looked back at the new woman, noting her slip of a frame and the way her arms hung lifelessly at her sides. She stared off into an empty corner of the room, and he wondered if she heard the deafening sound of voices, or maybe one particularly malicious tone. He would find out soon enough what brought her there, he always did.

For being crazy, they were most certainly a gossip ridden group. Real voices echoed in the sparsely furnished room, most of what was there was nailed down and far too heavy to throw. Some of the residents were malicious, but most were simply lost. Lost to their family and friends, lost into the system, lost in their own minds.

Margaret babbled behind him, begging him to play a game with her, and yet no game pieces sat on the table between them. Donald, Donnie for short, paced the length of the room, humming to himself and flailing his arms back and fourth as he did every evening. Jacob had also taken an interest in the new woman, and didn’t wait too long before he approached her hesitantly.

Geralt sat quietly and watched her, watched him, refusing to get involved with the poor souls that found themselves trapped in the facility. He was supposed to be getting released soon, and there was nothing he would do to ruin his track record of pristine behavior. He cheeked the pills they forced on him, but they couldn’t tell, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Jacob sat in the chair next to her, his bald head and thick frame going unnoticed by the woman. Her lashes twitched almost imperceptibly when he spoke, her ears registering the sound, but her mind disregarding him for the nuisance he was being.

“What’s a beauty like you doing cooped up in this looney bin?” No response. His brow furrowed. “Tell me what you’re in for, eh?” Silence. “You some psycho killer or something? Cut your husband’s bullocks off cause he slept with another bint?”

The speaker crackled to life by the nurses’s station. “That’s enough Jacob, leave her be.”

He huffed in annoyance, but left her side anyway. Another flash of recognition in her lashes. Geralt ruled her a sheep, rather than a wolf. She wasn’t a threat to him, and he could lump her in with the other traumatized residents of the facility.

———

“For those of you that are new, my name is Dale. Welcome to group. You should feel safe sharing anything you need to here.” The man was young and enthusiastic. Geralt gave him two weeks before he asked for reassignment.

The dark haired woman sat next to him, the nurses undoubtedly figuring he was calm and quiet, a good way to transition her into therapy. When they came to get her she stood easily, walked where they guided her, and sat with surprising grace for someone who barely looked at her surroundings.

Her hands folded primly in her lap, and he noticed white, gauzy bandages peeking from the cuffs of her state issued sweatshirt. It was too large on her, and hung like a garbage bag to her mid thigh. _No_ , he thought, _whatever it is, you’re worth more than that._ Someone would miss her, there was no doubt about that.

“Yennefer, you’re new with us today. Would you like to share what’s on your mind?”

Her name was unique, and yet not as exotic as he’d pictured for her. Christ, the place would drive him mad in itself. He was so bored he had been giving her potential names. _Look straight ahead and focus jackass,_ these people don’t matter.

Unsurprisingly, she didn’t share. She simply stared at the ugly mint colored tile in the center the the circle.

“Yennefer, do you have any thoughts on your son?” 

Another brief shudder in her lashes, but no response.

“His loss must have been hard, when you found him -“

Geralt didn’t know why he was pushing her so hard, details were dangerous in group. He no more than finished his thought when Lennie, a victim of malicious Schizophrenic voices, launched from his chair. “Baby killer!” He screeched, hands outstretched and aimed for her neck.

Geralt reacted before he even realized it, grabbing the back of her chair and swinging them both around backwards. Lennie’s tall frame crashed into Geralt’s back and he lurched forward, but pushed her chair even farther away.

The shrink was pulling him off Geralt in no time, aided by a male nurse. Lennie kicked and bellowed, no doubt being taunted by the voices in his head. “You’ll pay! Baby killers go to hell!”

Geralt stood up, bending over her chair. “Are you alright?” A quiver of her lashes, a momentary break in her expression, and she was back to her blank stare. Physically, she was alright.

“Thank you Geralt.” Nancy wasn’t one for small talk. “I’m not supposed to say this, but I think I’ll miss you when you’re released. Our quiet thinker you are.”

He resisted the urge to tell her to fuck off. He hated that place, the staff, and everything they represented. He was no doctor, but he could swear that most of the people they drugged every few hours were no threat. Lennie struggled near the door, and one of the nurses gave him a syringe full of god knew what. _Most_ were no threat.

———

\- Flashback -

“You only came to visit him twice.” Yennefer tried to keep the anger from her voice, her infant son nestled against her chest.

“Yenna, baby, give me some credit. The hospital is almost an hour away. Someone had to work, so you could be there every day.”

She knew he was trying to lay his own guilt on her, and to avoid a fight, she allowed it. It was no secret that Istredd wasn’t thrilled when she found out she was pregnant, and even less supportive when he was born with a heart condition. The small diamond on her finger was his attempt to salvage their relationship, and most days she thought even that would not see them through.

Yennefer spent the better part of two months by her little boy’s side at the hospital, hoping and praying he would grow strong and be released of the small plastic crib that became his prison. His progress had been agonizingly slow, and Yennefer had leaned heavily on her sister Philippa, for support.

“It’s late and he’s finally home. Let’s set things aside and just be a family tonight?” Istredd’s hand found her shoulder, and he took a moment to look at his child’s deep blue eyes.

“You’re right. Why don’t I attempt the bottle, and you can take a bath. Relax for a bit if you can.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping they truly could turn things around. She took her bath and they made their way through their first evening at home as parents.

Yennefer woke from a terrifying dream just before three am, taking a few moments to calm herself down. Snakes were her least favorite animal, and just the thought of them made her shudder. The baby monitor was silent, but she wanted to check on him anyway. Now that he was home, she could peek in his crib and touch his cheek whenever the desire struck her.

Yennefer padded down the hall, and her horrified screams woke Istredd from a dead sleep.

———

Two days after the incident in group, Lennie was still missing. The poor bastard was probably strapped down and comatose with the drugs they were likely pumping into him. Geralt took the pills Nancy handed him, tossed them in his mouth and nodded, making his way to the piano bench. One of the few luxuries they had, the old wood worn but in tune.

He discreetly spit the pills, and hid them just inside the bench. He would return for them later and wash them down the sink in his room. Hiding the pills wasn’t the only reason he gravitated toward the piano bench in the mornings.

He could only play a few tunes, it was his late wife who was a master on the instrument. Renfri had been a sensation on the piano since she was a teenager, and it was all the more reason why he often wondered what he’d done to deserve her.

His thoughts sobered when images of her sprawled out on their bathroom floor, blood pooling from the gash on her temple. He bid the thoughts of her away, along with the heavy weight they left in his heart. Once the police were done with their investigation, and his defense attorney could dispense with this rotten tactic, he would leave Juneau behind forever. His lawyer had already sold their home, and he would take the money and bid Alaska and its grief behind him.

He played a few chords, the residents used to his light tunes after breakfast. He launched into a basic song he knew, it’s melody one of the few things from a time before his life fell apart that he indulged in. He was trapped, in ugly white sweats and cold rubber sandals, but the notes carried him far away from the hell that lived in that place.

He focused on the keyboard and the upcoming bridge, when a gasp caught his attention. A few of the patients watched as Yennefer stood from her chair and walked slowly across the room. He kept playing, watching her as she neared the bench, and miraculously sat down on it delicately.

She was as far from him as she could possibly be, nearly hanging off the edge, but on the bench with him nonetheless. For the first time, she looked at something other than the wall, his fingers.

She remained silent, but her gaze followed his hands as they traveled up and down the black and white keys. She didn’t crowd him by any means, but her gaze still felt personal. The woman hadn’t focused on a thing in days, and it was his hands, playing an old English hymn his wife had taught him that caught her attention.

Somehow it was too intimate, Renfri’s smiling shadow between them on the bench.

He stopped playing abruptly, his concentration broken and guilt flooding through him. Yennefer’s blank stare returned when his hands slid into his pockets, uncaring that she remained next to him.

“Awe Geralt, is that all for today?” Donnie complained.

“Forgot the notes. Sorry.” He hadn’t forgotten shit. She’d gotten under his skin, doing nothing at all. He needed to get the fuck out of that place before he really did need the meds they shoved at him.

He stood and crossed the room efficiently, pressing the call button for the nurse. One of the staff came to the door, and Geralt replied, “Phone call please.” He followed the nurse and disappeared down the corridor.

———

Yennefer laid in her bed, the mattress too firm, and the blankets scratchy. _Baby killer! Murderer!_

The man’s words echoed in her mind, and added to the sluggish, sick feeling the pills gave her. She deserved it, she’d killed her little boy. If she hadn’t pleaded with the doctors to let him come home, he would still be alive.

His tiny heart would still beat, regardless of the number of times they told her that there was a good chance he wouldn’t make it. He had been innocent, and she his mother. She was supposed to protect him, and still he laid under a rose quartz stone on a gentle hill. She deserved to rot away in the concrete cell that Philippa insisted would help her.

She was alive and her boy was dead, and there was no one to blame but herself. She cried, silently, her body long void of tears, wishing she could take his place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An: Holy cow that’s heavy, sorry everyone. Ok I’m definitely stealing some themes and imagery from House MD, borrowed with care. Geralt playing the piano, he’s no Mozart, give me a chance. ☺️


	13. Juneau, Alaska - The Asylum II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Again this is a darker fic. Warning, attempted suicide. Rated: M (for dark themes, not sexy time).

\- Flashback -

“Please, _please_!” She refused to let the man go, his arms wrapped around her baby. “Please,” she cried, “he’s alright, tell me he’ll be alright!” Her tortured pleas affected even the paramedics, who’s job it was to deal with crisis every day.

Istredd stepped forward and pulled her back as gently as he could. She tried to follow, great gaping sobs wracking her body, refusing to let the boy leave her sight. “He’s gone Yenna, let them take him.”

“No, no he’s not. Please, let me take him to the hospital!”

“Yennefer!” Istredd took her by the arms, shaking her.

She carried on, unconsolable, until he slapped her face.

“Yennefer. Get a hold of yourself. He was sick, we knew this might happen.”

She froze, startled from his words even more so than the slap. He let go, thinking her calm, and she slipped past him to dart out of the room after the paramedics.

“Yennefer! Damn it!”

———

She pulled air into her lungs desperately, pulling the pillow away from her face, waking up from her nightmare. Except the waking world was no relief. She was alone, her fiancé long gone and her own sister thought it best she remain institutionalized. The cuts on her wrists were healing, and she no longer needed to bandage them.

Yennefer sat up in her bed, the chill in the room permeating her thin pajamas immediately. Despair settled deep in her chest, and she thought about the sweet numb the pills would bring.

She dressed herself that day, pulling on the frumpy sweat shirt and baggy pants that laid on her table. She was thin, even more so than before her pregnancy. She lost her appetite when she lost her son, and they force fed her the day she arrived from the hospital. She ate just enough to appease the staff after that, not looking to repeat the experience.

The sun wouldn’t be up for another few hours, the clock high on her wall mocking her from behind it’s metal cage. Yennefer crawled on top of her unmade bed, sitting with her legs crossed against the chilly concrete wall. They were coated with layer after layer of thick paint, the most recent addition a rather vile shade of burnt yellow.

The cold seeped through her shirt and chilled her to the bone. She wondered if her sister slumbered peacefully under her down comforter, her yippy little dog snuggled in with her. She had scared the shit out of Philippa, but the swift and purposeful way she’d sent her off to learn her lesson was sobering.

She wanted Yennefer to get better, she wanted her sister back. She also didn’t have the time to run around after her making sure she ate, and that she wouldn’t throw herself off of the roof.

———

\- Flashback -

“Yenna!” Philippa heard the sound of the crash, coming from her second floor bedroom. She dropped the remote control and raced up the stairs, her dog barking and howling in the kitchen behind her.

Her sister was just inside the bathroom doorway, sitting in a pile of shattered mirror. “It fell, it was an accident.”

Philippa could believe that, her makeup mirror was somewhat precariously perched on her counter, and could easily have taken a dive. It was Yennefer’s face that gave her away, her serene, peaceful expression that contrasted with the way she hid her hands, balled up in a black towel.

Philippa pried her arm open to look at her wrists. “Yennefer, no!” She turned and ran for the stairs, intent on reaching her cell phone.

“No Phil, please!”

Yennefer could hear her speaking to the emergency dispatcher.

“Stop! Just let me _be_.” Her voice grew softer. “I just want to be with my ...”

———

She sat next to him at breakfast. He wasn’t like the others. He didn’t hum, or moan, or fidget. He never yelled, and didn’t seem to get involved in the affairs of the rest. He was tall, the tallest man in their wing. It was hard for her to judge his age as she slowly began taking in her surroundings, his long white hair making him seem older than his face.

He was pale, but so were the rest of them, only a chosen few allowed out in the courtyard at a time. His bone structure was severe, and she imagined he was quite handsome outside their walls. He somehow seemed too thin for his frame, though not for trying, as he shoveled down a bowl of oatmeal next to her.

They’d given them both identical trays, not near enough food for him, and far more than she could choke down. He’d saved her from the angry man during their counseling session, and she wasn’t quite sure why. She picked up her muffin hesitantly, noting the raisins and sprinkled sugar on top. She set it on the edge of his tray, and pulled her hand back slowly.

She took a sip of her cold tea through a terribly degrading _bendy_ straw, and waited for his reaction. He stopped chewing for a moment, grunted in what she assumed was thanks, and moved on to eating the muffin. She rid herself of a sausage patty and half her eggs next, feeling a mini thrill that the nurse on duty hadn’t noticed their little swap.

She took her pills like a good little zombie, hoping they would dull the hurt in her heart. He took to the piano again, but she hesitated before sitting near him. He hadn’t played much the last time they shared the bench. She moved to sit along the opposite wall, but he cleared his throat. “Yen, eh, Yennefer, you can sit here if you want.”

He began to play and left the choice up to her. She sat down on the polished wood cautiously, watching his fingers dance on the ivory keys. He would make mistakes, and grumble under his breath for a moment before continuing. His arms were long and thick, in the same manner his knees barely fit under the instrument.

She didn’t know a thing about him except what she’d observed herself. She knew his name, and that he’d saved her from Lennie’s meaty hands. He was supposed to be released soon, and they weren’t feeding him enough. The other residents liked him well enough, even though he kept to himself, and he could play a few songs on the piano.

The pills were beginning to take effect, the ache in her chest and the cloud over her shoulder beginning to fade. His eyes were funny, sharp and golden. He reminded her of a cornered dog, no, she corrected, a wolf. A wild animal who certainly didn’t belong trapped in there with lunatics like her. Again his fingers drew her attention and she stared, blissfully numb, her memories naught but a dream.

———

\- Flashback -

Geralt sat, bent over on the hard plastic bench, his head in his hands. If he hadn’t taken the overtime, if he’d come home when he was supposed to, she would be alive. He made decent money, not great, and he wanted to surprise her with a trip for her birthday. Some exotic beach where she always pictured them vacationing.

His job managing a sporting goods store and hers a music teacher, gave them a simple, yet cozy life up in their Alaskan mountain suburb. She would never tell him, but he knew she longed for adventure. Something beyond their uncomplicated life of responsibility and routine.

She would never see the beach. She would never dig her toes in the sand, and feel the salty spray of the surf on her cheeks.

A gruff voice jolted him from his misery. “Sir, will you please stand?”

The sounds of the police department finally penetrated his grief addled mind. Phones ringing, a twenty year old printer whirling like a 1920’s press.

“Geralt Rivia, you’re under arrest for the murder of Renfri Noelle Rivia. You have the right to remain silent.”

He couldn’t have if he wanted to. “What?” His forlorn tone and the disbelief on his face did nothing to gentle the harsh squeeze of the metal cuffs on his wrists.

———

She sat with him on the piano bench every day. Some how they’d developed an easy routine, her sneaking him the food she would otherwise throw out, and he kept an eye on things. Lennie returned to the common area, but kept his distance from her, Geralt an ever present shadow.

He watched as she arrived in the morning bright eyed and alert, and gradually left them all as the cocktail of drugs they fed her won over her small body. She’d yet to say a word, and the therapist left her alone, the young man likely feeling guilty for the prior outburst.

Geralt spoke to the staff when asked, followed the rules, and continued to enjoy a bit more freedom than those who were truly troubled. It was a particularly warm day when he approached the head nurse about spending some time in the courtyard.

“I think it would be good for her.”

Nancy narrowed her eyes. “Our thinker is advising not only for himself, but for others now?”

Geralt ground his teeth imperceptibly as she patronized him.

“I don’t see the harm in it." She relented. "Keep your hands to yourself, the poor thing hasn’t spoken a word since she got here, that means she can’t consent.”

He tipped his head so she couldn’t see his lip curl in disgust at her insinuation.

“I mean it. She ends up pregnant, and you’ll wish you could serve your sentence here.”

“Fine, never mind, I - “ He backpedaled and she interrupted him.

“Vengerberg!” She barked, “You can go to your room and get your coat.”

———

“I was planning on asking _if you wanted_ to come outside. Are you warm enough?” He almost missed her nod, but he was used to her small cues and hints.

The courtyard wasn’t overly large, but it boasted a few shade trees and a handful of plastic benches. Margaret was outside as well, talking to a patch of spring daisies as though they held the key to life’s mysteries. One of the newer orderlies stood by the door, keeping an eye on the whole area.

To the untrained eye, she seemed wholly uninterested with their surroundings. He knew she was taking it all in. The way her eyes followed the broken branch of a tree, or the subtle way she let her hand brush a budding cone flower, it’s pollen dusting over her palm.

It was late afternoon, and he knew her meds would be wearing off shortly, and he’d have her at her best. Geralt sat down on one of the benches, laying his arm across the back, and staring straight up at they sky. Freedom lay over the high walls and past the fence he knew to be at least twelve feet high. _Soon_.

To his surprise, she sat down next to him, the ends of her hair brushing across his wrist like the softest silk. She looked up the way he did and soon averted her eyes, the sunlight too bright for her.

“My wife’s gone.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she made no move to avoid his confession.

It would do no harm to tell her. He needed to tell _someone_. “I was working late, and she slipped and fell in the bathroom.” He swallowed hard. “She hit her head, and if I would have found her sooner, they might have been able to save her."

She blinked rapidly, absorbing his words.

“It’s my fault.” He wondered if she was somewhere, watching him tell a complete stranger their business. “The police think I killed her. I’m here because my lawyer is going to use an insanity plea if they press charges.” He kicked a pebble with his sneaker. “It’s bullshit.”

She was quiet, but he knew she heard him.

“Thanks for listening.”

They both stared off into the distance, until he felt cold fingers slid across his hand. He tucked his thumb around hers and they sat in silence, thinking about those they lost.

———

“Who is he? Is he dangerous?”

Philippa was concerned. She’d come to visit her sister, and she was nowhere to be found when the staff escorted her into the day room. She peered out the thick glass window to see her Yennefer on the bench with a gangly looking white haired man. There was plenty of distance between them, but it was still completely puzzling to her.

“No, in my professional opinion, he isn’t.” Nancy held her clipboard close to her chest. “He’s been a model patient.” She intentionally left out the part where he may have murdered his wife.

“I must admit, I’m surprised. The last update I received, she wasn’t even talking yet.”

“Oh, she still hasn’t spoken. They don’t need words it seems.” Nancy bent to speak into her radio. “Chad, you can bring them all in now.” She and Philippa watched as the orderly called to the three of them, and Yennefer and Geralt took their last glances at the outside word for a bit.

Philippa’s brow raised when he held the door for her, and her sister walked under his arm as though they’d known each other for years.

———

He ran out of songs to peck away at on the piano. Renfri had only taught him a few, he’d always begged her to play instead. He grabbed one of the instruction books off of their bookshelf and leafed through it, unwilling to break their routine. Pachebel’s Canon was a bit rough, but he found a lullaby that he was able to master on the first try.

Brahms’ lullaby filled the room, and he focused on the upcoming notes on the page. He didn’t see the tears spring forth and run down her cheeks. He didn’t notice her hand coming to cover her mouth. He didn’t know anything was amiss, until she crumpled over on the bench and sobbed.

The eerie howl that replaced the piano notes was the first sound he heard her make. “Yennefer?” He put his hand on her arm, and she began to slide down the front of the bench. He bent over to stop her slide, unsure what was wrong with her. The other residents stared, unused to her voice.

Two nurses rushed over and yanked her from his grasp, a third pulling the cap from a syringe. “She’s alright, she’s not fighting back!” His words mattered little as he got shoved back and the syringe pierced her arm. Her sobs silenced and she crumpled the rest of the way to the floor.

The male nurse picked her up and carried her to the door, her head lolling against his chest. Geralt swore, and tossed the piano book back at the bookshelf. He should have left well enough alone.

———

She wasn’t at breakfast the next morning. The morning after that, he sat down alone with his tray, wondering if she’d been a figment of his imagination the the entire time. He was cursed, dangerous. He’d broken her, the same way he’d failed his wife. He’d been unknowingly reaching for something that wasn’t his, and he didn’t deserve her company.

The eggs were cold. Everything was shittier without her, as though her presence distracted him enough to forgive some of the drudgery that surrounded him. He bit into a piece of burnt bacon and grimaced.

Suddenly, a muffin appeared on the edge of his tray. She sat next to him wordlessly, swiping one of the butter packets from his side and smoothing it over a piece of toast. It felt to Geralt as though someone had ripped a hole through the grey tent of misery in the room, and sunlight glowed warm next to him.

He felt her gaze on him, normally affixed to the food in front of her, or some far off apparition. Her lip quirked up in half a sad smile, but it was still the very first one he had ever seen her express.

They ate in companionable silence, received their medication, and headed for the piano. He managed to shove his pills inside the bench just before she reached him. Before he could begin to play, she pressed her fist into his hand, turning it and depositing a small assortment of tablets.

“Will you put them with yours? Please?”

She knew, she knew he cheeked and disposed of his meds. Christ almighty, not only had she smiled, but she _spoke_ , and to _him_ no less. Her voice was crisp and clear, and nothing short of bells in his ears.

Still in disbelief, he nodded and let the pills drop down into the bench with his.

“Teach me?” She offered her small palms to him, hoping he’d place them on the keys and instruct her how to play. Renfri was laughing at him from heaven. He was no teacher, and most of what he knew he’d simply memorized.

Something in the lullaby he played had broken her. Cracked the walls of her pain and grief, her guilt and shame. From the pieces she could grow again, to face her fears and sorrow and _live_.

“I’m no real pianist, but I’ll try.” He nodded. Renfri would want him to try, to help her as much as she somehow helped him. Geralt turned her hands under his, laid them delicately across the keys and began to play. Slowly they moved, his rough palms against the satin soft skin of her hands, and for once, they both found solace in an otherwise dreary melody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The conclusion of Fire is coming, promise. I have ideas for potentially two more chaps of this, or we can leave them where they are.


	14. Juneau, Alaska - The Asylum III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated: T.

Geralt leaned back in his seat. She thought he was guilty. His own mother thought he murdered his wife.

Visenna seemed to sense the change in him, the moment he read her doubt. “It’s just, there was no sign of forced entry. Are you sure she wasn’t seeing someone? There’s no shame in it son.”

Geralt’s nostrils flared and the muscle in his jaw ticked. The options she was giving him were worse with every passing moment.

“She wasn’t having an affair.” Her insinuation about his late wife was revolting.

“Well then Geralt, I don’t know what to tell you.” She threw her hands up in the air. “You were the only one home with her.”

His alibi couldn’t be corroborated, and none of the simple minded police on his case could get past it. Now he had to add his mother to the list of those who needed proof he hadn’t caught Renfri in a lie and flipped off the handle.

“Again, I wasn’t home. I took an extra shift. I was in the back office of the store, by myself.”

She took the coward’s way out and changed the subject, her visit almost over. “Are they feeding you enough, you don’t look yourself Geralt.”

Just how chipper was he supposed to look? His life as he knew it had been ripped away due to a freak accident, and he’d been a veritable prisoner in the few months that followed.

“I get by.” No, the state issued meals weren’t enough for a man his size, and the cook cared little about the taste and quality of the food when much of it ended up on the walls. If she had bothered to come earlier, she would have seen the true face of her son’s grief. But now, with his likely release immanent and the help of his new friend, he was actually looking more and more like himself.

“Your lawyer called me this week. You sold your grandmother’s house.” She seemed disappointed.

The home he and Renfri owned was built by his grandfather, but they’d paid for it fair and square.

“You understand that I can’t live there.”

She nodded, assuming the memory of Renfri’s death would keep him from crossing the threshold. Instead, it was five years worth of happy memories that drove him away. Quiet moments they’d shared together, and all the plans they made for their future that were now dashed.

“Will you call me when you’re home?”

Her request sounded ridiculous to him. _Home._ He had no home.

———

Geralt didn’t need to ask, he knew why she kept her muffin. His tray was loaded with her toast, oatmeal and most of her out of season fruit, but the little dash of chocolate chip on her lip told him all he needed to know. The tip of her tongue darted out to savor the confection, and he hid his subtle grin by bringing his coffee to his lips. It was black, weak, and served in an innocuous paper cup, but it was better than mud.

She played her first complete song the same morning, her small fingers finding the rhythm of the melody much more gracefully that her tutor. He earned another smile, this one still half hearted, but no less special. Donnie clapped for her, and color rose in her cheeks.

She went to her room to get her coat, anxious to get back outside, and nervous to smuggle out their pills. Down the drain in her sink they went, and she joined Geralt and two others in the day room to be let outside. The fresh air hit her like a wave of calm, void of the odor of bleach and plastics. They walked until she’d had enough, and each took a place on their bench.

A grey squirrel clamored through the ground cover and scratched his way up a weeping cherry tree in front of them. Geralt crossed his legs, and Yennefer tucked hers underneath the bench. She had spoken since her breakdown, but not much more than one word answers and polite **_thank yous_**. Outside they could speak freely, without so many ears listening in.

“What will you do, after?” She ran her fingertips over the uneven wood below their legs. She asked him not about his past, but what the future might hold. She trusted him, somehow knowing in her heart of hearts that he told the truth. She saw the pain in his eyes, and she knew his loss had been an unfortunate accident.

“I’m going.” He looked up at the sky, fluffy clouds rolling by and leaving them behind. “The police ripped apart what was left of my life, trying to prove that my wife hated me, and that I killed her in a fit of rage. There’s nothing for me here.”

He cleared his throat, averting his gaze to the scuffed up, state issued sneakers on his feet. “And you? When your family comes for you?”

“I’m not so sure they will.” She pulled the sleeves of her coat down past her wrists. “It’s just my sister. I scared her so bad, I doubt she’ll want to take me anywhere.”

 _Come with me_. “She’ll come.”

They sat and soaked in the fresh air until the orderly called them in, and again they began the dance of avoiding the next round of pills. They played checkers and chess until they were blue in the face, and it was scrabble that granted him her first laugh.

He laid down his wooden tiles, and sat back to tally their points. Yennefer looked down at his word, tilted her head to the side, and promptly covered her giggle with her hand.

“I played the hand I was dealt.” Proud of his move, the word _boobies_ , was a triple word score.

“They’re going to kiss now, _watch_.” Jacob, the man who’d approached her asking intrusive questions her first day in the facility, taunted them. He pursed his lips and made lewd smacking noises with his tongue.

Before either of them could protest, the door by the nurse’s bubble squealed open and nurse Nancy barked her announcement. “Vengerberg, visitor.”

Yennefer was startled, unsure who was waiting for her. When Philippa visited, she told her she was traveling for work, and it would be a few weeks before she could return. Yennefer hurried and began returning the tiles in her tray to the box, when Nancy grew impatient. “ _Now_ , silent Susie.”

“I’ll get it,” Geralt covered her hands with his, “go.” He gave her a squeeze and she stood, hurrying over to meet the nurse’s annoyed expression. She looked back just as the door closed, and he offered his palm in a subtle wave.

The door closed behind them with a thud, and Geralt wondered if he’d ever see her again. He hoped for her sake, that her sister had wised up and come to take her home.

———

“How are you Yenna?” Istredd looked wholly uncomfortable in the sparse meeting room the staff allowed visitors to use.

 _Grieving, devastated, trapped in a concrete prison. Disappointed in you and wondering where the hell you’ve been._ “Fine.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that.”

They’d been together eight years, and he couldn’t tell that she was a shell of the girl he’d met in high school. A shadow of the woman he shared a home with. He’d grown exasperated with her when she didn’t rebound from the loss of their child, and told her they needed a break from their relationship, so she could get herself together.

His patience had run dry for a fiancé who slept on the carpet in an empty nursery, and she’d gone to stay with her sister. Everyone knew how that had turned out, hell, the whole town did.

“You?” To be honest, she hadn’t thought much about him while she’d been there. Picturing him joyously carrying on with his life while she withered away made her feel bitter, and then selfish and guilty.

“Great! I mean, as much as I can, you know.” He hurried to cover the fact that losing both of them affected him so little. “About that, I have a favor to ask you. Do you happen to know where you left your ring? They don’t have it here, the staff?” Her finger had been bare for weeks.

Yennefer narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“Oh, ah, just didn’t want it to get lost in the shuffle.”

How had she never seen before that he was such a sleaze? The inconvenient _shuffle_ , was her future falling apart.

“My sister must have it. It was in the box...I wasn’t wearing it.” She crossed her arms the way Geralt did, when he knew there was more to something. “Are you going to sell it? The least you can do is be honest with me.”

Istredd sat back in his chair, surprised at her assertive question. “Yenna, don’t pry. It’ll only make things worse.” Her gaze was unwavering, and made him visibly squirm. “Alright, I’ve met someone. I know it’s soon, but I’d like to have it back.”

Yennefer’s nostril’s flared, and her nails dug into her arms. “When did you meet her.” Her tone was icy, her words laced with animosity.

“That’s not fair Yenna, you know how strained things were. Your pregnancy was hard on me too.”

Her breath caught in her chest. _The whole time._ The entire time his son suffered, getting poked and prodded by one doctor after another, he was cheating. Every lonely, apprehensive drive she made to the hospital to hold his tiny hand, he was fucking another woman.

Neither Istredd, nor the orderly outside the door had anticipated her shout. “How could you do that to him!” Her eyes were wild with pain and anger when she sprung up on top of the table and scratched at his shirt. Istredd grabbed for her flailing arms and shouted for help.

Yennefer got in at least one decent slap to his face, the shocked betrayal behind his red cheek little comfort as her vision faded and the orderly pulled back the syringe.

———

Geralt sat in the circle of plastic chairs without complaint, his stomach growling and doing the talking for him. He was happy for her, she deserved her freedom just as much as he did, but that didn’t mean he didn’t miss her. Two days wasn’t much to someone on the outside, but to them, an eternity.

He kept himself busy planning for his release, the trip east and what he would need to buy and carry with him. His thoughts drifted to her more often than he would admit, picturing her little smile. He hoped she sat in the grass in her bare feet, piano music playing from her phone and a bowl of chocolates at her fingertips.

The therapy session moved to his turn, and he gritted his teeth and waited for Dale to intrude on his privacy for what seemed like the hundredth time. He opened his mouth to level his standard, few word response, when the doors in the back of the room opened. He ignored it, continuing with his bland answer.

“Yenna-ferr!” Donnie chirped excitedly.

Geralt whirled in his chair, gripping the backrest in surprise as they walked her in. Her head was held high, and her hands were bound at her navel. He watched her with wide eyes, an orderly pulling a chair for her, and the other removing the plastic tie around her wrists. She sat in the chair and stared straight ahead, her jaw clenched in concentration.

Had she gone and come back? What on earth had happened to cause them to restrain her? He wanted urgently to find out, but instead he hurried through Dale’s questions and tried not to let them catch him watching her.

——

They walked right to the piano bench, and she sat down heavily. “He’s right. I belong here. I’m just as crazy as poor old Margaret.”

“Who’s right? What happened?” He’d prefer they talked outside, but she was no longer allowed the privilege. He shuffled through music, making it look like they were doing more than talking.

Quietly she opened up, explaining about her _ex-_ fiancé, and that he wanted to use her engagement ring to propose to another woman. It was his lack of compassion for his own child that had propelled her up and over the table.

He was so appalled by what she revealed, that one of the sheets facing them was upside down when he finished. His voice was low and grating as he hid his hand from her, his palm flexing into a fist. “None of that has anything to do with you. You’re anything _but_ crazy.” _He’s lucky you didn’t get a chance to scratch his eyes out._ It would be hard for Geralt to resist paying him a _visit_ once he was released.

Yennefer sighed, absentmindedly rubbing her wrists where the ties had dug in, trying to believe his words. She had no tears left for a while, acceptance of the lies she couldn’t fathom her only recourse.

“ _Play_ or move along so others can use it.” Nancy barked, Yennefer no longer in her good graces.

He raised his arms and typed out a simple tune, and she laid her cheek against his shoulder. Over her head he watched the nurse roll her eyes, but she let the innocent touch go, and he was grateful.

———

Yennefer thought that the moment Istredd came to find his ring would hold as her lowest point in that wretched facility. She was proven wrong two days later.

It was nearly lights out, the institution ready the lock down for the evening and switch to a skeleton staff. The patients in the common area knew the drill, and split up into two lines. Women on one side and men on the other, she and Geralt separated thusly each night.

Foreign voices echoed in the hallway, and Nancy barked for them to be quiet. “Rivia, release, front and center.”

From across the room, Geralt froze, meeting Yennefer’s shocked expression with his own.

“Now, let’s _move_.”

He broke their eye contact and did as he was told, marching forward to follow an orderly and a plain clothed police officer. They would take him to get his things, explain that the charges against him had been dropped, and a patrol car would drive him where he requested to go.

Yennefer waited until the nurse was busy, ducking out of her line and rushing across the room. The door to the men’s corridor had closed, and she stood, leaning against the plexiglass window in it’s center. She could see two men standing outside his room, and Geralt appeared again, a small bag in his hand.

Her palm slipped down the cold glass, and the men began to walk in the opposite direction. _No, please don’t go. Don’t leave me here alone._ Somehow he sensed someone behind them and he gave a quick look back.

Their eyes met, and she did her best to memorize his face, the apology clear in wide golden orbs. She pinned her bottom lip under her teeth to keep from crying and her fingertips found the glass pane again, before she was yanked from the door.

Nancy guided her none to gently down the hall where the women had filed, ushering her into her room. Yennefer’s mind was still reeling, trying to process what had just happened.

“I’ve let you two flex my rules for a time, but no more. Don’t expect any more privileges from me, riding on the coattails of his good behavior. You assaulted a visitor, and I won’t be forgetting it any time soon.” She seemed satisfied with herself, closing the door to Yennefer’s room with a loud thud.

 _Please._ That useless word had gotten her nowhere. No one listened when she voiced it. Not the paramedics when her little boy was cold to the touch. Not Istredd, nor Philippa, the two people supposed to care for her unconditionally. Even Geralt couldn’t answer her _please_ any longer, his own finally having been answered.

———

Wave after wave of loneliness and anxiety washed over her as she laid in her bed. The mattress was lumpy and made her back ache, but she barely noticed the discomfort. Too strong was the sense of fear, of unending days of drudgery and defeat. She would be locked away there forever, alone. Istredd was pleased she had been so completely and efficiently removed from his life, and Philippa thought she was doing the right thing by leaving her there.

A wave of nausea rolled up from her stomach and she sat up in the bed, willing her body to calm. She took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly as they’d advised in group. She was young, Christ, she had just turned twenty-six. She could spend her next sixty years babbling like Margaret, or barking out abrupt comments to an uncaring audience like Donnie.

Never again would she drive down the highway with her windows down and a frozen cappuccino in her hand. Instead it would be lukewarm tea thru a straw, and runny eggs from a styrofoam tray. Jacob would taunt her, and _Lennie_. A fresh surge of apprehension roiled in her gut, he still thought she’d killed her baby, and her protective shadow had just walked out of her life.

She slipped from the sheets and hurried across the cold concrete floor, barely making it to her commode in time to retch. She threw up what little dinner she’d eaten, her panic turning the food into an uncomfortable poison in her belly. Yennefer wiped her mouth with a shaky hand, and sat back against the wall.

He was free. Her friend had left her like all the rest, his strong and quiet presence a balm on the harsh realities of her prison. He deserved to go, to grieve on his own terms, to gather together what was left of his life and move on. He was only a few years older than she, and he could easily build a brand new life for himself when he settled down again.

When she had calmed her own spiraling thoughts, she was glad for him, hoping life granted him the peace and happiness he was owed.

———

Geralt stood at the counter in the automotive store, still not accustomed to the softer lighting of life outside concrete walls. He paid for the package of spark plugs, and the girl behind the counter winked at him, her hand brushing his a moment too long when she gave him his change. He paid her flirtation no mind, nodding and thanking her politely before turning to leave.

Yennefer’s smuggling had put meat on his bones again, and women loved a tall man. They wanted a partner who could pick them up easily and toss them onto a bed, to pull things from high shelves, and to intimidate rival suitors. His broad shoulders would make the young cashier look small and dainty in comparison, and the harsh cut of his jaw and cheekbones would make her friends jealous. All _he_ wanted, was to leave.

He had a bank account, and everything else he owned was in his truck. It sat idle for weeks while he played crazy, and it didn’t want to turn over. The parking lot was nearly empty at dusk, the only other vehicles belonging to employees. He bent over the grill, the hood in the air, humming to himself as he twisted the socket wrench in his hand.

He realized all at once that the notes rumbling in the back of his throat were hers. Yennefer had taken an immediate liking to the _Moonlight Sonata_ while she learned, it’s haunting and dramatic melody one that fit her mood. They’d played it together, Yennefer to his right, her fingers quickly learning the higher register while he supplied the deeper tones.

He shook his head, trying not to dwell on the thought of her. It wasn’t his place to worry about her. Her sister would come for her, and by then, he’d be well into his new life. She would be just fine. He straightened quickly, striking the back of his head on the hood with a loud smack. Geralt swore under his breath and rubbed the rapidly forming bump on his skull. Served him right for letting her distract him.

He tightened the new plugs, ducked in the cab to start the engine, and closed the hood with a satisfied grunt. The night was balmy, and he’d decided to sleep in the truck, rather than pay for a hotel room. He had the funds, but until he found work in his new city, he’d rather save it.

He drove to a twenty-four hour supermarket and parked in the back of their massive lot. The truck had a roomy bench seat in the back, and he unzipped a thick sleeping bag and folded his tall frame into the cab. It took him a long time to fall asleep, his mind busy working even if his body was not.

He’d been released without prejudice, the prosecutor’s office hadn’t been able to find sufficient evidence against him. Geralt knew they wouldn’t find any, nor intent, but they had wasted over two months of his life to be sure of it.

He laid awake, the bright lights of the parking lot harsh against his eyes. Maybe the universe had meant to teach him something, about patience, or to force him to grow as a person. Perhaps he found himself there just to meet her. Yenenfer had so blatantly needed help, and he a distraction from the misery of losing his wife. Whatever the reason, he hoped he’d learned his lesson.

———

_:_ _: Renfri was beautiful. She was as bright and engaging as the day he first met her. She sat on a wooden bench, not unlike the one in the courtyard at the hospital. A gentle breeze pulled at her auburn hair, her perfume fresh and sweet in his nose. She watched him approach, a soft smile on her face. She wasn’t alone, a small infant held lovingly in her arms. The child they never had._

_“No, Geralt.” He was surprised when she spoke, he hadn’t voiced his thought out loud. She tucked the blanket away from the baby’s face, and the child’s jet black hair filled his vision. He jerked his gaze upward and back to her warm brown eyes._

_“You know who he is. I believe you’ve met his mother.”_

_Geralt’s shoulders sagged._

_“Geralt, I’m not upset. Stop that pouting right now.” He searched her expression carefully. “I love you, teddy.” His heart seized in his chest when her pet name for him rolled past her gracefully curved lips. He wanted to walk closer, to touch her, but his boots were frozen in the green grass._

_Suddenly he became aware of their surroundings. What he’d assumed a calm park or garden walk, was a cemetery, grey and white headstones laying in the shallow sloping ground around them._

_“Ren.” Even he could tell his voice sounded tortured._

_“I know teddy. I know you loved me, you made sure I felt it every day.” Her eyes left his for just a moment, to brush her thumb across the baby’s soft cheek, his eyes a familiar deep blue. “I need something from you Geralt.”_

_“Anything, love.” His words were a mere whisper._

_“I want you to live. To feel, to try…and to love.” She continued before he could protest. “I’m at peace, and I wish the same for you.”_

_Again he tried to move, but his feet felt like they were made of lead._

_She tipped her chin and brushed her lips over the baby’s forehead, and his dark lashes fluttered as he cooed. “Tell her he’s happy, and there is no pain. I won’t leave him, he’ll feel love for all his days until she can be with him again.”_

_“Renfri.” Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes._

_“Go teddy, fulfill your promise.” She blew him a kiss, and the sun over her shoulder blinded him. ::_

———

He’d woken in the back of the truck, headlights shining in his face and tears streaked down his cheeks. He wiped at his eyes and calmed down, his breathing returning to normal slowly. If he had taken the bevy of pills they thought he needed, he would assume the dream a withdrawal fueled delusion, but he had no explanation.

He hadn’t dreamed of her in the hospital, and he’d been glad, not wanting her anywhere near that wretched place. This dream was so vivid, he swore he could still smell her perfume. Geralt stared at the back of the passenger seat, the maps peeking from the pocket and reminding him of the journey ahead.

How could he jump headlong into a new life, knowing Yennefer was trapped and surely suffering? He could no longer use the excuse that it would be disloyal to his dead wife. No matter what his beliefs, he knew both women would haunt his dreams as well as his days, until he did something about it. 

The last thing he wanted to do was go back there, to take a risk with his newfound freedom, but it seemed that was just where he was headed. 

———

He used the money he saved by not staying in a hotel to bribe the night janitor. He considered a simple, well placed punch to the face, but such a crime would land him in _real_ prison, and he didn’t want to actually hurt the man. Luckily he had a large build, though the coveralls still came high on Geralt’s ankles and short on his arms, the waistline hanging empty where the man’s sizable stomach normally resided.

It would pass for the nightshift, most of the nurses who gave a shit, namely Nancy, would have gone home for the night. Geralt pushed the janitorial cart down the barren hallways, tugging the cap down his forehead. He paused at the common room door, checking that his distinctive white hair was securely tucked, and that his name badge appeared to be haphazardly spun.

Geralt mopped and tidied up the room, quietly pushing the chairs into the rows he knew they would find them in in the morning. Two young nurses chatted away in the bubble, giggling and laughing at what he assumed were TikTok clips.

He nearly had a heart attack when he pulled the door to the supply closet open, looking for a new roll of clean garbage bags. He’d stumbled upon the night guard, hand wrapped around his meager package and lewd moans and slapping noises playing from his phone. The man jumped when the door opened, but Geralt simply put his hands up in surrender and closed it again.

He wheeled the cart past the unsuspecting nurses and turned down the women’s dormitory hallway, thumbing through little brass keys on his way. He stopped at her room, peering in her window to see her sleeping soundly. He slid the key in the lock, and gave a prayer when it opened quietly. He looked over his shoulder quickly and darted inside, shaking her shoulders gently.

“Yennefer, wake up.” He tugged her blanket down, the cold bringing her lashes open in an instant.

“Geralt,” she mumbled, her pupils lazy and blown.

Something wasn’t right. “Yennefer, are you sick? What’s wrong?”

A warm palm ran the length of his forearm soothingly. “Are you a dream? Pssst, I don’t want to wake up.” She smiled softly.

“Yennefer, did you take the pills?”

“They’re bitter like baking chocolate, yuck.”

 _Jesus_ , she was tripped out on their cocktail of meds. She hadn’t been taking them while he was there, and he imagined that her tolerance was terribly low for the dosage they gave her. He wasn’t positive due to her baggy pajamas, but she looked even thinner to him than she had just two days prior.

“Yennefer, do you want to leave? You can stay with me, while you decide what you want to do.”

“Geralt?” She was fighting the drugs. She touched his two day old beard with her fingertips, the coarse white hair bringing her back. “Geralt, is this real?”

“Yes. We have to hurry if you want to go. You might not be able to see your sister for a while if you come with me.”

“I want to go with you, I don’t care.” She was still blinking rapidly, trying to shake the effects of the sedatives. “ _Please_.”

———

Geralt was grateful that the janitor had cleared out for the night when he wheeled the cart into the maintenance room. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he rushed back over to the cart, shoving the garbage bag over to reveal her groggy face from where she was perched in a clean bag.

“Come on, out you come.” He bent over the tub and reached his long arms in for her, her hands wrapping around his neck as she tried to help him pull her out. He sat her in the man’s office chair and peeled off the coveralls. He laid them over the edge of the bin and tossed the cap onto the desk, hiding a few more bills in it, encouragement to keep his silence.

He’d parked a few blocks away to avoid the facility’s security cameras, and he carried her the distance, his coat wrapped around her shoulders.

“Geralt?” Her question was met with a grunt, the long days of inactivity at the hospital causing him to huff some.

“Did you just kidnap me?”

“Yes.” Along with bribing a state employee, impersonating a state employee, illegally entering the facility, and hauling off with one of their charges.

“Why would you do that for me?”

He wasn’t ready to have this conversation with her yet, he wanted to get them to safety before they dug into what exactly their friendship held.

“I forgot the notes to your sonata, needed help remembering.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t hide the disappointment in her tone, the meds wouldn’t let her.

He turned another corner, the streets dark and shadow filled. The truck came into view and he was thankful, too worried about the potential of someone following them to be embarrassed about his relatively unfit state.

“I can walk Geralt, I’m awake now.” She tried to help.

“Bare feet,” he reminded her. “We’re almost there.”

———

She slept off the last of the pills tucked in his sleeping bag, her dark hair spread wildly over his pillow. He’d driven them away from the city, to a seasonal road used only by hunters and fisherman. He wanted her to have time to make her decision, unbothered by the fact that they might be discovered. He sat in the front seat, maps spread out over the dash as he plotted a new route that put them on more rural roads.

“You came back.”

He hid his smile when he heard her voice, clear and unadulterated again. “I guess I am a loon after all.”

“Where are we?” She sat up behind him, running her fingers through the tangles in her hair.

“About fifty miles north of the city, on an access road that doesn’t normally get used this time of year. One of the hunters that bought a lot at the shop used to talk about these woods being just laden with deer and moose. Also looks like a great spot for axe murderers to hang out.”

Her lips quirked at his comment. “You wouldn’t have risked your own freedom if you were going to murder me Geralt. All my own family had to do was walk in and sign me out, but it was you who went to all that trouble to free me from that prison.”

He had. Geralt swallowed. “You can still change your mind, you weren’t clear headed before.”

“I am now.” She watched his expression as she continued. “I know that I’m just some crazy woman you met during the worst moment of your life, but I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“I’ve told you this, and I will again, as many times as you want to hear it. You’re not crazy, Yennefer. You’ve been dealt some hard blows, but I’ve seen the fight in you. You’ll make it.” He reached into the back, laying his hand over hers and holding it tightly.

“Take me with you, I’ve nothing left here. I’ll call my sister and explain, she can smooth things over with the hospital.”

He nodded. He wanted to ask if Istredd would come after her, but he knew as well as she did that he’d written her off. “What about your things?”

She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She didn’t have much that held sentimental value, much of her adult life spent with a man she’d rather forget. She had a feeling too, that it wasn’t just her ring that he had given to his new woman. “If I could borrow a few things, I’ll pay you back, I can work.”

He shook his head and she understood. He was asking if she want anything from _her_ house. Photos, jewelry, mementos of her son. If she had any money, she would bet that he’d already turned the nursery into the home office he so desired, and scattered it’s contents to the wind. “I’m not sure if my things are mine anymore, and I’m certain everything else is gone.”

“No problem, you can use mine until we get you your own things.” His thumb ran circles over her knuckles.

“I might have to borrow some footwear sooner rather than later, I have to pee.”

He laughed, retrieving his arm and shoving the maps aside to walk around to the back of the truck. He returned with a warm, fleece-lined coat, a pair of his boots, and a roll of toilet paper. They would buy her clothes and wash up after she called her sister, but for the time being, they were camping. He helped her into the massively oversized boots and she thanked him.

“Good God, how big _are_ your feet Geralt?”

“Well, you know what they say.” He smirked, and she began to see the man behind the stoic facade. He was free, _they_ , were free, and she couldn’t wait to find out what other kinds of smiles he hadn’t been willing to show in that hell hole.

She tsked at his joke before stepping between his legs and wrapping her arms around his sides. She pressed her face to his jacket and her hands clung to it’s back when his arms circled around her in return. Her _thank you_ was muffled by the bulky clothing, but he heard it nonetheless, tucking her head under his chin and holding her tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So obviously this is highly improbable and a bit looney on my own part, but that’s what makes it fun for me!  
> I hope everyone had a lovely holiday! <3


	15. Juneau, Alaska - The Asylum IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An: Rating M.

“I’m not going back.” Yennefer held Geralt’s cell phone to her ear while Philippa squawked into the receiver on her end.

_[“Yennefer, how the fuck did you get out?! My phone has been going crazy all morning!”]_

“I’m sorry about that, but you wouldn’t see reason.” Geralt busied himself organizing the bags in the back of the truck, attempting to give her privacy. It had a black, hard top cover that protected all of his belongings.

 _[“Reason!? This is a perfect example of why you should be in there! I’m trying to keep you safe!”]_ Philippa sounded like she might cry.

“Phil, I love you, and I’m so sorry I scared you. No one should have to find their little sister like that, but I’m alright. Being in that place one moment longer would have broken me.”

Philippa paused, and Yennefer could swear she heard her sniffle. _[“Yenna, where are you? I’ll come and get you.”]_

“You’re not listening to me. I’m not coming home. There’s nothing left for me there. I’m safe, I’m with a … friend.” Yennefer quit her pacing and sat in the passenger seat of the truck.

_[“Your friends are all here, and none of them knew where you were when I called them in a panic. It’s that man, isn’t it? That tall man with the freaky eyes and the white hair.” ]_

“I just want you to know that I’m safe, and I’m going to try and start over. I need to you please call the hospital and sign me out.”

_[“Will I ever see you again?”]_

“I hope so. I want to have a life again, it’s not too late.”

 _[“Mom and dad would kill me, losing my own sister. No, it’s not too late.”]_ Philippa sighed. _[“I’ll call the facility. Do you need money? How can I reach you?”]_

“You can reach me at this number. I’m trusting you with it because I love you, Phil.” Yennefer closed her eyes, praying she wasn’t making a mistake.

 _[“I love you too baby brat. Can you call me tomorrow? I just want to hear your voice again and know that you’re alright.”]_ When Yennefer heard her use the nickname she’d given her as a girl, she knew Philippa had given in.

“Sure thing _nasty nag_. I need one more little favor, but it won’t take you long.”

———

“Your auntie is going to come by and see you when she comes to visit your grandparents, so you don’t have to worry that we’ve forgotten you.” Yennefer forced a wobbly smile through her tears, arranging the blue and white mini roses elegantly around the granite stone.

Geralt was just on the other side of a shallow hill paying his respects to his wife, his roses her favorite shade of deep red. Supposedly the authorities were no longer looking for them, after Philippa signed her out under her own care, and released the facility of any liability in her disappearance. Eager to sweep the embarrassing issue under the rug, they agreed to ignore the strange man on their security cameras.

Yennefer knew he was anxious to leave the city, his face having been on the news as the prime suspect in Renfri’s death. They easily agreed to two stops before getting on the road, the cemetery being the first.

“I love you so much, and someday we’ll be together again.” She pressed her fingers to her lips and brushed them along the polished stone surface.

Yennefer could feel Geralt’s presence behind her, patient and empathetic. She whispered her last goodbyes for a while, dried her cheeks and walked toward him, an uncertain but hopeful expression on her face. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat of its wobble.

He nodded, “I wanted to come.”

He hadn’t told her about his dream, but maybe there would come a time when he would need to. He didn’t believe in the supernatural or the occult, he was a _facts_ man. But damn if the images weren’t convincing, Renfri’s words heartfelt. 

“Let’s get you something to wear.”

———

Yennefer had never been so happy to walk in below the glowing red bulls-eye in her life. She looked a fright, but the normalcy of the well lit isles and brightly colored signs left her feeling like she was slowly stepping back into the real world. Geralt’s heavy boots thudded across the shiny white floors underneath her, the man himself pushing a cart behind.

She entered the ladies apparel section and stopped cold. “Geralt, how much? I mean how many things, -“

He silenced her embarrassed questions with a wave of his hand. “I’d like to keep a low profile when we get there, so buy enough to get you through a few weeks, just in case.”

“In case my sister goes back on her word.”

He nodded, not having to explain that she was the one who sent Yennefer to the hospital in the first place. She understood, but still worried her lip, and he knew what bothered her without asking. “There’s plenty of money, get what you want.”

“I’ll pay you back, every penny.” He wasn’t worried about it, but nodded anyway. He and Renfri had been frugal, and they’d had a lot of equity in their house. “I have a trust, set up by my parents that I haven’t touched. They left Phil the executor as she was older, but I know she’d give it to me when I ask.” Assuming she didn’t think Yennefer was crazy, or being coerced.

“Let’s just leave that be for now, I don’t exactly want to tell her where to send it.”

“Alright.” She pulled two pairs of black leggings from the shelf next to her and set them in the cart gingerly. She grabbed two pairs of jeans, a pack of simple long sleeve cotton shirts, and a pack of socks. She swallowed down her embarrassment and added bras and panties to the small pile. He followed along behind her, taking note of the sizes she chose and doubling their selections. For every item she added, he grabbed a second.

She ran her hand along a warm looking parka and turned back to ask, “Will it be cold where we’re going?”

He nodded, the implausibility of their situation hi-lighted by her question. She followed him blindly, and her trust humbled him, when others who had known him for years were easy to question his character. They took the parka, boots, gloves and a warm, fuzzy hat. She glanced for a moment too long at a dinosaur covered onesie that signaled they’d approached the baby section, but she bravely turned her face and moved on.

They tackled the next department, and she added shampoo, and he the conditioner. She was trying to be as little of a bother as possible, and he supposed it would take a while for her to relax and realize she was the master of her own fate again. She set deodorant in the cart, and he added razors. A hairbrush, toothbrush, and a package of pony tail ties made it past her inspection next.

She stopped in the vitamin isle and asked if he had any for himself. Geralt hid his amusement, she would go without, and yet gently mother him about his own health. They purchased a bottle for each of them, her mutterings about the nutrition at the hospital he couldn’t argue with. She darted into the feminine isle without him, returning somewhat sheepishly with a box of tampons.

“Get two more. Don’t argue or I’ll grab them myself and God knows it’ll be the wrong kind.” A hint of color rose in her cheeks and she turned to fetch them, missing his grab for a bottle of ibuprofen. He’d lived with a woman before, and that little white bottle might some day prove his salvation. Cramps and back aches were nothing to mess with.

They loaded her purchases on the belt at the register, and Yennefer began to see the extent of what he’d added behind her back. “Geralt, this is far too much.” She held up the little pearl earrings she’d stopped for a moment to admire.

He looked up from dropping a handful of chocolate bars onto the moving pile of clothes at his left. Her emotional well being was worth more to him than being a miser. “We’re out of that place Yennefer, and you should have what makes you feel comfortable.” He paid the clerk in cash and she vowed to herself that she’d earn her keep, unwilling to feel like a burden.

She left him for a moment to use the ladies’ room, and he wheeled the cart into the little alcove that hosted a small Starbucks. Her hot tea was in his hand when she returned, and the look on her face when he handed it to her made him want to buy her another. He didn’t have to say it, _no demoralizing straw._

She took her first sip. “You’re not thirsty?” He shook his head to the negative and they walked through the automatic doors. He stowed her items in the back of the truck with his own and returned to the driver’s seat. She leaned over the armrest and surprised him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Thank you.”

———

“Geralt, where are we going?” She watched out her window as they passed by streetlights and commercial buildings.

“To a hotel for the night, and then Valhalla.”

He was so matter-of-fact about his ludicrous answer that she turned to him in shock.

He grinned, “It’s a town in Alberta, north of Edmonton.”

“Oh, I see.” She smiled, what a fitting name for an escape. “I thought you were sleeping in the cab, I can too, don’t spend the money just for me.”

“I can’t sleep in this seat, my legs’ll be cramped up. If I take the back, you’ll be up here, and I’m not chancing someone seeing you through the windows and thinking it’s an invitation.”

She was complicating things for him. She wondered just how he was planning on getting her across the border without her ID, but there was no sense in worrying about it yet. She laid her arm on the console and looped her pinky finger over his.

\------

“Ohhhh, _God_.” Yennefer’s moan carried across the tile, and Geralt looked up from the duffel bag he unpacked on the bed. He tossed the sweatshirt in his hand down and hustled to the bathroom door.

“Yennefer, are you alright?” He peeked through cautiously where she’d left it ajar.

“Geralt, it’s hot and clean and wonderful.”

He could see the top of her head from his height above the curtain rod, and she angled her face into the steamy spray, groaning again at the sensation. The cold and musty shower stalls at the hospital had left a lot to be desired, and he grinned, ducking away from the door.

The floral scent of her new shampoo snuck out after him as he laid the majority of her clothes and the newly emptied bag for her to use. They agreed to be conservative with their funds and take a room with only one bed, but Geralt had hoped for a small sofa or something for himself. It was just as well, he’d be happy with the floor in a hotel over the last bed he slept in any day.

He heard the water turn off, and she emerged a few minutes later in leggings and a plain v-neck shirt. Water still dripped from her thick mane of ebony curls, and he turned his attention to the television before he looked too long at the damp spots it left on her shirt. He normally showered in the morning, but even _he_ wasn’t pleased with how grimy he felt after sleeping in the truck.

She was right, the shower felt amazing. He watched the last vestiges of the worst months of his life swirl the drain and disappear, hoping his memories of the place would soon do the same. He ought to shave, but he left the task until the morning. Sleeping naked was no longer an option, so he copied her dress with a t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

He found her snuggled near the edge of the bed, a messy bun on her head and an apple in her hand, smiling as the cast of _Friends_ tried to maneuver a couch up a flight of stairs. “Pivot.” She offered, laughing again at the frustrated characters. “Your hair?” She questioned, the show going to commercial.

“Forgot a comb, no big deal.” It _was_ a mess of tangles down the back of his neck. One of the first things he planned to do once they crossed the border, was cut it all off.

“Sit.” She’d gotten up and tossed her apple core into the trash. He sat on the edge of the bed like she asked, and she laid another apple in his palm. She sat behind him on the bed, and he felt the bristles of her brush drag across his scalp gently. “I don’t have cooties, I promise.” She offered.

He took a healthy bite of the apple, unconcerned about sharing. If she had _cooties_ , it was likely he already had them as well. He finished the fruit in just a few bites, but he had to admit that her careful attention was comforting. She worked slowly, hissing between clenched teeth when she thought a snarl tugged too hard, or that she’d hurt him. It would take a hell of a lot more pain to get a complaint from him, and he wasn’t sure she was capable of it in the first place.

Yennefer ran her fingers through his soft, white hair and fanned it out, the strands almost dry. “There.” She released him and returned to her side of the bed. Maybe he wouldn’t cut it after all. The _thank you_ was on the tip of his tongue, but he brushed his hand along her arm as she passed instead.

“TV doesn’t bother me, stay up as long as you like.” He told her, checking that the door was securely locked and turned off the main light, leaving only the soft glow of the lamp next to her. He took one of the pillows and a folded blanket from the back of an armchair to settle down on the carpet next to the bed.

Just as he began running through things in his head for the next day’s drive, the blankets rustled and her head appeared from above the mattress. She looked comical above him, confusion on her face. “Geralt, what are you doing?”

“Sleeping.”

“I know I don’t smell, I just showered.”

“You need space. Don’t need my long legs taking up the whole bed.”

The idea was ridiculous to her, most of the bed was empty even with her in it.

“Alright.” She proceeded to slide all the way across the coverlet and take it to the floor on the opposite side of the mattress. She reached up for her pillow, and turned off the lamp, leaving the shadow of the TV on mute.

What in the hell was she doing? He sat up slowly, only to look over the mattress and find her gone. Rather than argue, she made her point loud and clear. He smirked and then grumbled, tossing his pillow back up and crawling over to her side.

“Ooof!” She squeaked when he pulled her up onto the mattress with one arm, leaning over her to retrieve the pillow.

“Alright.” He repeated her simple response and hoped she wouldn’t regret it. He didn’t have to look to see the victorious smirk she wore as he flipped the blanket down over his legs.

\------

She was drooling on his neck. Geralt woke on his side, facing the window, her body cuddled up to the back of his. Her arm was tucked between his ribs and his own, her small breasts pressed to his upper back and her mouth to the back of his neck. Short curls of warm air drifted across his shoulder and he closed his eyes again, enjoying the simple freedom to do so.

He could only imagine how nurse Nancy had reacted when Yennefer went missing. He could never let her go back there, she would never survive the vengeful woman. Yennefer stirred before his mind could take him anywhere darker, and she sighed. He could tell the moment she woke, her heart began to beat faster against his back.

“You’re already awake, aren’t you?” Her whisper was quiet, but she was so close he had no trouble discerning her words. “I’m not going to be able to pretend I didn’t slobber on you.”

“Maybe next time I’ll drool on _you_.”

“Good.” She pulled the collar of her shirt up to dab at his neck.

“We’re up in time for breakfast if you want.” He was in no hurry to leave the comfortable, warm bed, but his stomach told him he’d regret it if he didn’t.

“Mmmm.” She hummed behind him.

Twenty minutes later she waited patiently as her waffle cooked, the most innocent anticipation on her face. He sat at a table for two, behind a pile of eggs and breakfast meats, packing away as much of the breakfast as he could. The dining room of the hotel was brightly upholstered and cheerful, guests milling about and making plans for their day.

Yennefer sat her tray down across from his, a little muffin appearing on the corner of his plate. He paused, and watched the corner of her lip curl in a smile. “Tradition,” she offered.

\------

“I’m so sorry, my wallet ended up in my bridesmaid’s bag, and she flew home to Texas with it.” Tears dribbled down Yennefer’s cheeks, and Geralt wiped them away with his thumbs.

“It’ll be alright sweetie, don’t worry.” Geralt’s tone was comforting as he tried to stem the flow of her despair.

She was draped over the center console of the truck and against his shoulder, their hands woven together in his lap. Her large diamond ring glinted in the late morning sun. The Canadian customs officer frowned, Geralt’s license in his hand.

“We do apologize for the inconvenience sir, it’s not like either of us to misplace something so important. The stress of the wedding has had her mind in a tizzy.” Geralt spoke in a reassuring tone, petting Yennefer’s hair as she sniffled.

The officer cleared his throat. “Where are you two headed?”

Geralt was quick with an efficient answer. “Vancouver, sir. We’ll be four days on our honeymoon. She wants to see the Sea-to-Sky highway, and I’m interested in a brewery there, Granville Island if I’m not mistaken.”

The man still looked unhappy at their lack of paperwork, but whether Yennefer’s waterworks or Geralt’s supporting detail, he handed back his license and waved them through. “Ma’am, don’t ever try to cross into Canada without identification again, but have a nice honeymoon.”

Geralt smiled and pressed a warm kiss to her forehead. “See, all isn’t lost baby.” He turned to the man, “Thank you so much sir, have a nice day.” Geralt merged back into traffic and Yennefer’s tearful thanks could be heard until well after they crossed the border.

When they were safely across, Yennefer climbed off of Geralt’s shoulder and tsked at the wet spots on his shirt from her dramatic tears. “This is the second time I’ve leaked on you, today.”

“Worth it, you were amazing.” He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Too good.”

“Sweetie,” she picked on the endearment he’d used, “you plucked me from the looney bin, you’ve only met half of my personalities.” He shook his head at her bad joke and asked her to check which exit he wanted on the next highway. She reached back for the map with with smile, and gave him the information.

“How did you come up with that stuff about Vancouver?” She was impressed with him as well.

“Googled it while you made your waffle.” He was nonplussed, as though he was well versed in lies. She supposed his stay in the hospital had done that for him.

She wouldn’t tell him that she could still feel his lips on her temple, and that she would treasure their soft touch. She twirled the fake wedding ring on her finger, just as shiny now as it had been in the machine at the grocery store.

“You’d better give me that ring before it turns your finger green.” She offered her open palm and he gave her the cheap metal band that had adorned his finger. Her own fake ring was worlds larger than the one Istredd had given her, but she hadn’t even worn it a year before he wanted it back. She wondered how long Geralt had been accustomed to wearing his real one.

“How long were you married?” She hoped her question would not upset him, but he didn’t seem to have a problem talking about his wife. Unless you were accusing him of killing her.

“Married for four years, but we knew each other for eight.”

She nodded in acceptance of his answer, and to her surprise he continued on.

“It took me two years to convince her to go on a date with me. She was a friend of a friend.” He explained. “Took me the next two to convince her to marry me, but as soon as I did we flew to Vegas. I wasn’t letting her go.”

“You never did let her go, she was a lucky woman. I never said it before, but I’m so sorry for your loss.”

He nodded. “She would have liked you. She was a good judge of character.” The woman in his dream certainly did.

No, Yennefer thought, his wife would decidedly _not_ like the way she couldn’t help stealing glances at him and savoring his touch.

She changed the subject. “This is the second crime you committed for me, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Don’t thank me until you’re settled.”

She wanted to tell him that she already felt so much better than she had in months. He’d paid her more attention than Istredd had in the last _year_ that they were together. He’d been kind and gentle where others were harsh, and had risked his own life for her. She was beginning to see that what she once thought was a happy, content life, had been a complete sham.

\------

They spent one night on the road without issue, and arrived in the sleepy town of Valhalla, British Columbia, the next afternoon. He’d purchased a cabin for himself with the funds from the sale of his house, remotely, through his lawyer. Located not far up a secluded dirt road, it would offer him the privacy he sought.

The driveway to the property was long and winding, and it connected to a small barn, large enough to park his truck inside if he chose to. The cabin itself was small, but tidy and well kept, it’s dark brown log walls common in the area as they drove through. Yennefer got out of the truck and stretched her legs, peeking at the quaint front porch.

“It’s small, I bought it before I knew you were coming. It’ll do for a while.” He nodded toward the front door, “Go ahead in, the realtor said it would be unlocked. I’m going to check out the barn.”

Geralt veered off to the left and she climbed the wooden stairs on her own, stopping to turn and appreciatethe tremendous view from the front of the cabin. Treetops and sloping rock faces sprawled out before her, and she understood why he’d chosen the mountains.

Curiosity won her over and she entered the cabin, the temperature inside not much warmer than outdoors. The interior was quaint an efficient, and far more modern than she anticipated. The tidy kitchen, dining area, and living space encompassed much of the structure, it’s authentic log walls and vaulted ceilings lending character and style. Simple brown leather furniture and a natural wood table made the room a fitting place for a bachelor or a family alike.

A large fireplace took up one of the inner walls, and she followed a short hall to the bedroom, which hosted a similar fireplace against the first’s backside. A large, rustic framed bed and a simple dresser filled the small bedroom, two doors leading to a compact closet and the bathroom to her right. She went back out into the hall to find a small linen closet, and an alcove that hid a stacked washer and dryer.

“Is everything alright?” Yennefer jumped, he’d come in from outside and surprised her.

The place was darling, and she was still in disbelief that he’d share it with her. “Yes.” For once, it was the truth.

———

Geralt left early the next morning, waking her briefly to tell her he had an appointment to talk to a man about a job at the local lumber mill. By the time she’d gotten up and dressed, he had returned successful. They’d taken one look at Geralt’s tall frame and thick arms, and the interview was practically over. It would be grueling work until he learned the trade and earned some of the more desirable tasks on site, but he’d never been one to shy away from a challenge.

“I’ll start at six tomorrow morning, and I’ll need to go into town for some tools. If you want to come with me, I think you need a phone.”

She nodded, it was worrisome to be alone without one.

“And we’ll fill the cupboards, and get whatever else you think we’ll need.” He listed his ideas out loud as they walked to his truck together.

“This is a lot Geralt, are you sure?”

“I suppose I was sure when I bribed that night janitor.” He grinned. “We’ve got to get you access to the outside word, so you can think about what you might like to do with your new start.”

Yennefer wasn’t sure what she could do for this man, that would ever repay his kindness. Yennefer watched as beautiful mountain scenery flashed before her eyes as he drove, the summer temperatures moderate and pleasant. After the hardware store and the wireless shop, they headed for the local supermarket.

“What’s your favorite meal?”

Geralt pulled a cart from the corral. “Hmm, mine?” He thought for a minute as they entered the produce department. “Probably lasagna.”

“Allergies and dislikes?” She added a basket of apples to the cart, spinach, carrots and berries to follow.

“None. Spicy food doesn’t agree.”

She nodded, quickly planning meals in her head. Istredd had insisted that she not work while they’d been together, and the prospect of sitting at home and existing solely to please an insecure man again was undesirable. She would do more with her second chance, but in the meantime, she would help him as much as she could. She chose enough food for two weeks, Geralt dutifully pushing the cart behind her.

She assured him that she’d gotten most of their staple dry goods, and that the next trip would be much less expense, even though he did not protest at the bill. The young woman that cashed them out was sweet and bubbly, her coiled blonde hair and cherry red lips easy on the eyes. As she followed Geralt out of the store, Yennefer noticed a sign advertising employment, and grabbed an application. It wouldn’t be glamorous, but it was a start.

When they returned to the cabin, Geralt insisted on carrying in all of their paper bags before heading out behind the barn to get their woodpile established. The cabin was heavily reliant on the two fireplaces for heat, and even though it was summer, it was never too early to begin chopping and piling for the future.

Yennefer prepared a simple baked beef dish, a hearty meal supplemented with carrots and potatoes, while prepping a flavorful biscuit dough. She would have considered such tasks mundane, but she knew now what it was like not to have the autonomy to perform them.

She used her new phone to call Philippa while the beef finished cooking, assuring her that all was well, and requesting she please send her ID, and other important documents along.

_[“You don’t have any insurance Yenna, he dropped you from his policy.”]_

“I assumed as much Phil. It’s alright, I’ll be careful. If you want to enclose a bit of the trust with the package, that’ll help with unexpected costs.” The oven timer beeped and Yennefer hurried along. “My biscuits are ready, I’ve got to go.”

_[“Love you, brat. Text me tomorrow, I’ll let you know when I mail the package.”]_

“Thank you. I miss you, but I promise I’m doing well. It’s so beautiful here.”

_[“I hope so. He might be tall, but I took that self defense class, and I know how to aim for the balls.”]_

———

Geralt ate like a man starved. To his credit, the pack of Poptarts he’d had for breakfast wasn’t enough to hold _anyone_ over. She pulled warm biscuits from the oven and handed him the small jar of honey she’d chosen at the market. He sank his teeth into the warm dough and closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the stark contrast between the hockey pucks they served back at the hospital. Still, she took it as a compliment.

The fire he’d built crackled behind them and warmed her back pleasantly as they ate. Her phone sat plugged in on the counter, soft music playing in the background. He got up to fill his plate again, and tipped his head toward the sound.

“I like ‘em.”

Yennefer smiled, lowering her glass of water. “She’s a trained jazz singer, and he’s a bit of an adorable mess, but they make beautiful music together. I used to listen to them in the car everyday, on the way to the…to see him.”

He nodded, impressed that she was able to revisit that time in her life, even subtly. He’d like to think it meant she felt safe there with him.

“I called my sister and asked her to send my license and things to the P.O. box in town, so they should be coming soon. I’ll be able to contribute, I promise.”

He began to wonder about her ex-fiance. Granted, he and Yennefer weren’t involved, but just how had he treated her that she didn’t think she was worth his kindness and consideration? “There’s no rush. If you want to spend some time in the quiet, go ahead. I’m not stewing over things, nor tallying who’s doing what.”

She didn’t look convinced.

“Hell, I’d say those biscuits are worth three month’s rent alone.” Finally her lip quirked into a smile. He was glad to see a hearty portion on her plate, her frame still so thin.

He took a swig of apple cider. “What’s it like having a sister? My parents didn’t make the same mistake twice.” Nor did they speak to one another after the drunken night he was conceived, but that was a story for another day, and a short one at that.

“I call her _nasty nag_ , for a reason.” They finished her meal to the sound of her light chatter, the politics of barbies and boys her biggest worry.

———

Geralt fumbled around the kitchen in the dark, not yet familiar enough with the layout to move seamlessly amongst the furniture. At five-thirty, the morning sun wasn’t yet up to offer him any help. His knee bumped into one of the table legs and he cursed under his breath. He’d have to go without a lunch, he couldn’t be late the first day.

“Geralt?” Her sleepy voice came from the bedroom, turning on the overhead light as she went. He’d tried not to wake her, but she stood before him with rumpled hair, and her loose shirt askew to reveal a creamy shoulder. She was a beautiful woman, and it was never more clear than in the furrow of her brow and his name on her lips.

“Sorry, go back to sleep.”

He headed for the door, his new tool belt heavy on his waist.

“Oh, I’ve already made it.” She realized what he was searching for, and pulled a densely packed bag from the fridge. She leaned forward when she handed it to him, brushing against the soft flannel of his red and black plaid shirt. She paused for a moment, catching his sharp chin with her index finger, and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

She wasn’t deterred by his surprise, instead explaining, “Tradition. A new one.” He gave a quick nod, agreeing with her suggestion. She followed him to the door, and he locked it behind him before stepping outside.

“Be careful.” He advised.

“Be safe.” She eyed the hatchet on his belt and recalled the new saw in the back of his truck.

\------

Light crept past Geralt’s thick white lashes and he woke slowly, thanking whatever God had made it Sunday. His first week at the mill had been exhausting, and until his body got accustomed to the work, he was one overly large, sore muscle.

The only part of him that wasn’t fatigued, was standing at full attention against the small of her back. “Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, slowly extricating his limbs from their warm home, woven around her like a vine. He tucked the blankets around her shoulders and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, rubbing his face with the heels of his hands.

He supposed now he might as well become an actual mountain man. What had been a shallow growth of hair on his face, rapidly forming a full-bodied beard. He grimaced at the tent in his boxers and walked to the bathroom, turning on the shower as he went. The least he could do was make her breakfast, she’d been cooking for him and his brutal schedule all week. He opened the little linen closet, and sure enough it was full of fluffy, freshly cleaned towels.

He stepped under the spray and wrangled some shampoo into his hair, closing his eyes as the suds dripped past them and bringing his soapy hand down to his aching cock. He was going to have to figure out a way to share the bed with her and avoid waking up like a horny teenager.

Her hair was simply too silky and her skin too soft, his palm slid over his shaft slowly, his cock eager for what he’d denied himself. The arch of her plump lips and the swell of her breasts underneath her thin sleep shirts had him leaning an arm against the tile wall. When it was drafty in the cabin and her nipples strained against the material, begging for his warm mouth, it had taken all his willpower to turn away.

He took a stuttered breath and tugged on his cock faster, picturing the gentle curve of her hip and how her slender thighs would feel wrapped tightly around his waist. The sound of her moan filled his ears unbidden and he muffled his groan into the back of his hand. The rush of endorphins that came along with his release were a welcome numb for his tired body. _Jesus_ , she was still trying to recover from so much, he was a beast.

Irritated at himself, he cleaned the rest of his body and toweled off. He stopped in the mirror for a moment, wiping the fog with his palm, and decided to leave the beard. It made him look old, but it was warm, and the way the wind could whip through their job site, he could use a bit of protection. He left the bathroom with his towel around his waist, searching in the dresser for a pair of sweatpants. He’d given her the entire closet, but his organization was efficient, so he felt no loss.

“Geralt.” Her voice was sleepy when he turned, startled that she was awake.

“Mmm.” He tossed the sweatpants on the top of the dresser, making it clear he was about to lose the towel.

“Don’t tell me you’re not sore from this week. You could barely hold your fork last night. Let me try and help?”

He snapped the elastic of the sweatpants over his navel and walked the towel back into the bathroom. _I’m an animal, you already helped_. “I was going to make you breakfast.”

“We can make it together, come here.” She held her hands out and wiggled her fingers invitingly. “Lay down.”

He laid on his stomach as she asked, and when her hands traced the muscle in his back and began to press circles, he was glad he’d showered first. He was much less likely to do something they would both regret, like flip her over, press her into the mattress and fuck her until she couldn’t walk. He crossed his arms under his face and relaxed under her touch, determined to remain someone she could trust to put her best interests first.

He winced before he could hide it when she discovered a particularly knotted up cluster below his left shoulder blade, and she whispered her apology against his skin. At first he wasn’t sure, but it was soon clear that she was laying soft kisses in the wake of her fingers. The combination of her fingers and the new give of his muscles married with the warm press of her lips, and he settled into a calm he hadn’t felt since his nightmare began.

The room got darker and darker, until she crept up next to his cheek and feathered a kiss there too. “Rest.” He closed his eyes again, and didn’t wake until lunch.

———

Yennefer knew he would be gone when she woke, he’d told her Monday mornings the men did some equipment maintenance and got their tools in order for the coming week, so he’d be leaving early. She’d left his lasagna all packaged up in the refrigerator, and hoped he didn’t forget to take it.

She flopped over onto her stomach, the manly scent of leather and woods filing her nose as she inhaled deeply against his pillow. She’d gone too far with the massage, and she was grateful he hadn’t complained about the little kisses she stole as she worked. If he only knew what lewd, inappropriate thoughts had filled her mind while she touched him, he surely would have tossed her off.

She made no move to get up, lounging a bit longer on his side of the bed, her imagination running ahead of her. She’d felt his morning wood the day before and had chosen to pretend sleep, sparing him from having to address it with her. She didn’t want him running to sleep on the couch or some silly thing, just from his body’s unconscious reaction.

In truth, she was proud, even if it was only in sleep that he wanted her. The erection she’d felt certainly wasn’t a small one, and she’d be lying to herself if she hadn’t been imagining it since. If only he’d simply woken from sleep and nudged her leg aside, running his hands up her shirt. Yennefer’s hand crept along the sheets beneath her and behind the stretchy waistband of her plain cotton panties.

She pictured him nibbling her neck as he filled her, dainty fingers seeking to create the feeling of him heavy between her legs. She took one last breath of him and rolled on her back, adding her other hand so she could flutter her fingertips over her clit like his broad tongue might. His back had been warm and strong under her lips, and she imagined his cock the same way, firm and insistent that she reach her peak along with him.

Her breath caught when she sped up her movements, her needy moan unanswered in the empty cabin. She saw him losing control above her, unable to stop the climax that brought his gruff groan in her ear and a warm pulse between her legs. She leaned back hard into Geralt’s pillow, her hips chasing his imaginary form and her core squeezing her wiggling fingers tight.

Yennefer laid for a few moments, enjoying the satiated feeling her release cast over her body. She made a sheepish face no one saw, and resigned that she would wash their sheets, just as soon as she showered. Padding into the bathroom, she stopped briefly at the mirror while the water warmed, still slightly taken aback by her overly pale skin and gaunt cheeks. She wasn’t one to tan, but her dark hair made her pallor take on an otherworldly quality.

She kissed him on the cheek, and he’d never kissed her back. She was headed for a heartbreak. Was it only because he’d literally saved her and then given her the shirt off his back that she was so attracted to him? He’d been so incredible to her, but when she thought about the last two weeks critically, he would have done the same for a sister, or niece. She stepped in the shower and scrubbed her hands thoroughly, somewhat ashamed of her little fantasy.

\------

They were low on a few things, and she didn’t want to jump him after an exhausting day and demand he take her to the supermarket. The town was too small to maintain a ride sharing service, so she decided to walk there. She checked the map and the distance on her phone, and tucked her job application in a small bag she’d been using as a purse. Until she made her own money, she could make due with what she had. 

The walk was invigorating, and mostly downhill, to her relief. She’d been walking for about forty-five minutes when she realized it would take her much longer than she’d calculated to get there. Yennefer picked up her pace in an attempt to make sure she would be able to make it back before dark.

She moved to the side of the road to let a car pass and hid her hands in Geralt’s sweatshirt, the weather too warm for her parka. The vehicle, an older model SUV, slowed and the passenger side window rolled down. “Do you need a ride sweetie?”

Instead of some creepy old man, it was a young blonde woman. “Oh no, no thank you.” Yennefer gave her an awkward smile and began walking again.

“Are you sure? I’m going to Safeway if you need to be in that direction, or if you’re hungry?”

Maybe it was because the woman was beautiful, in a soft, kind way that made her consider it. “Thank you, but I’m not homeless or anything.” Technically, she was. It was then that she noticed the little girl in the booster seat behind her. She had her mother’s striking blue eyes and fair hair. “You shouldn’t…you have a child, I could be some crazy murderer.”

The woman laughed. “I suppose you’re right. You could sit up here with me though, and I’ll push you out the door if you start to get murder-y.”

Yennefer turned to continue on.

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me. Please let me give you a ride. It’ll bother me all night long if I don’t.”

———

Yennefer didn’t tell her anything about Geralt or the cabin, but she did tell the woman that she was applying to work at the store once she noticed the apron and name tag tossed in her back seat. She remembered her from their first trip for groceries. 

“Oh, it’s like any other retail job. Some of the customers warm your heart, others need a swift kick in the ass. It’s a great way to meet people and network, especially if you’re new in town. Everyone needs to eat.” She offered, chatting on with Yennefer as they drove the rest of the way to the store.

She was a single mom, her husband had cheated on her with an even younger woman. Her name tag read Essi, and her daughter responded to Gwen. “This town’s not much for respectable, available men though, that I can’t lie to you about. Gwen and I might just be spinsters together forever.” The four year old wrinkled her nose as though she knew what her mother meant.

Yennefer knew a respectable, available man, and assuming she proved to be genuine, he could very well be a fitting match for her. Her stomach began to cramp and twist, picturing Geralt with her little girl, and what a striking couple they’d make. Yennefer swallowed hard as Essi pulled the car into the lot and parked. “You want to hand that application in to John, and tell him you can work nights. He’ll like that about you, assuming you can.”

Yennefer thanked her sincerely, and Gwen gave her a little wave as they selected a cart and began shopping. The store was busy at mid-afternoon, but she found the manager and he asked her into his office to question her about her experience. Thankfully he didn’t ask for her paperwork right away, instead telling her to bring it with her the next week when she would start as a cashier. It wouldn’t be glamorous, but it was a start.

Yennefer choose the bread they were low on, and a small bottle of laundry detergent before turning into the next isle and coming face to face with a little boy sitting in the child’s seat of a cart. She looked around quickly, not finding his parent in any discernible direction. He couldn’t have been more than a year old, and his pure blue eyes reminded him of her own little boy.

How could his mother just leave him in the middle of the store like that? Any psycho could come along and grab him, and she would never forgive herself. Yennefer was tempted to scoop him up and move to the next isle just to teach his mother or father a lesson, but he soon began whimpering, and a woman ducked in from the next isle.

“All right Thomas, I hear you.” She seemed overwhelmed, loading boxes of cereal into the cart. Yennefer didn’t have much sympathy for her plight, her baby safe and sound in her arms. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts of the cloud that had begun to appear over her shoulder. She could think about her own son later and give in to her tears, but she had to hurry along if she was going to make it back before dark.

———

Yennefer didn’t make it, and Geralt’s truck was already in the driveway when she climbed up the steps. She bustled inside with her bag and lit the stove to heat the soup she’d made the prior night. She heard his voice behind her, and knew that she’d made a mistake.

“- ah, cancel that, she’s here. Thanks a lot.” He hung up his phone and walked from the bedroom. “Yennefer, where were you? Did something happen, are you alright?”

“I’m sorry, we needed a few things from the store and I underestimated how long it would take me.”

“You went all the way to the supermarket? You walked?” He eyed her bag.

“Not the whole way, I got a ride on the way there.” She was hurrying to accomplish her task, and she didn’t realize how upset he was.

“You hitchhiked on your own, and then walked all the way back yourself, in the dark.” The muscle in his jaw ticked as he ground his teeth, pissed at himself for putting her in the position to risk her safety.

She finally slowed, the food heating up. “Was that wrong? I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sure why he was so angry, the meal would be ready in no time.

Something changed on his face, and he crossed the rest of the room toward her. She braced both hands behind her on the counter and held her head high, determined not to cower. Warm arms wrapped around her snugly, and he squeezed her against his broad chest. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled into her hair. She relaxed, returning his hug slowly, and resting her cheek against the little white button on his shirt pocket.

“Tomorrow on my lunch, we’ll go look at cars, alright?” He wasn’t in a hurry to let her go.

She pulled back to look at him. “A car?! I can’t afford that yet. I took a job at the store, as a cashier. I can walk, I just need to plan better.”

His brow furrowed, “A used car, something safe and reliable. I don’t want you walking alone, forget in the winter.”

Something blossomed in her chest when he talked as though she would still be staying there come winter. “My sister is supposed to be sending some money, if it’s enough for the downpayment, then I’ll do it.”

“Regardless, you’re not walking. Besides, one of my coworkers is liable to swipe you right up. They’re all jealous of your cooking. Todd offered me twenty bucks for my lunch today.”

Her eyes brightened, “Did you take it?”

“Hell no, it was lasagna.”

She laughed out loud, she could have made him three pans of the dish for that. Maybe there was something to it, she’d be happy to send extra food if their earnings were worthwhile.

“We’re getting the car.” He searched her face, wanting her agreement that she wouldn’t walk alone through the hills again. She scrunched up her nose. “ _Yen_.” He pressed.

She was surprised at the shortened version of her name, but the way it rolled off his lips, it was certainly better than _Yenna_. “Alright.” Her agreement was hesitant, but hopeful.

———

Essi was assigned to train her on the cash register, and for her patience, Yennefer was grateful. Yennefer was a quick study, but the market didn’t exactly have cutting edge technology and software. Essi cursed when the family they clerked out pulled their bags away, and an overweight man in his forties loaded his groceries on the belt.

Yennefer scanned his candy bars, limes, and vodka with the same care she had all her customers that morning, but he was still dissatisfied with her work. A meaty hand shot out to grab her wrist when she dragged a package of tomatoes past the scanner. “Go easy there missy, I don’t want bruised produce.”

Yennefer yanked her hand back, and didn’t respond to him.

“A brat, eh?” He chortled. “Essi’ll tell you that gets you no where around here.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not my supervisor, sir.” Yennefer’s tone was poised and confident, and Essi wanted to cheer for her.

The man grumbled and paid for his items, yanking the bag from Essi’s hands and marching off toward the parking lot.

“You were great! Oh, I’ve never seen _Grabby_ _Gus_ so ticked off!” She continued to chatter excitedly, right through their next customer. “Wait until I tell the other girls!”

———

“Damn!” Yennefer swore under her breath, pulling the bag from the refrigerator. He’d forgotten his lunch. She checked the clock, there was still time to get it to the mill before his break and her shift. They’d been in a routine for a couple of weeks, but he must have been in quite a hurry that morning. She put a load of his jeans in the washing machine, set up the crockpot to cook her homemade applesauce, and grabbed her apron before jumping in her car.

The lumber mill wasn’t far up the mountain, and Yennefer parked close to the foreman’s office. She knew the layout of the buildings from the few stories she’d gently pried from him, and she knocked on the door to the small trailer cautiously. An older man with white hair answered her knock, and looked wholly surprised to see a woman on the property.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I have a package for Geralt.” She offered him the bag. “Geralt Rivia?” She tried again when he didn’t respond right away. He was solidly built, tall, and his face held a pleasant warmth.

Slowly he smiled, taking the bag from her. “There’s only one Geralt working here sweetie. Who did you say you were?”

She hadn’t introduced herself, hoping not to embarrass him. “I’m his roommate.”

He smiled wider. “Is that so? I’ll be sure to see that he gets this before their break.”

Her smile matched his. “Thank you sir.”

———

Geralt had been bracing himself for a hungry afternoon, when Vesemir whistled and called down to the men. “Rivia,” he shouted, “your lunch is here.”

The man he worked with paused, slinging heavy wooden planks up to their massive band saw. “Oooo, Geralt’s _mommy_ brought him some lunch!”

Geralt grunted, unaffected by Lambert’s taunting. He knew the men were jealous of his mysterious lady friend and the hearty meals he brought every day. They finished up and went on break, Lambert pulling out a pile of mushed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. “Come on then,” he goaded, “Crepes? Caviar? Couscous?”

Geralt pulled a glass container from the bag and grinned. “Pot roast.”

“Son of a bitch!” Lambert cursed, and a few of the other men chuckled. “Who _is_ she damnit!?”

There was another container of roasted asparagus, and a piece of raspberry pie. There was a note affixed to the last container, her angular scrawl becoming familiar to him. ' _Be safe <3'_

A bag of pork rinds hit Geralt in the forehead when Lambert saw the note. “Well, who _is_ she to you?”

Geralt grunted again. “ _Mine_.” He teased.

———

Later that night, Geralt carried in an armful of firewood and stacked it carefully next to the fireplace. Fall was in full swing, and they’d be relying heavily on his woodpile for heat. When he stood, he looked around the room carefully, and took stock of the subtle touches she’d left all around.

A deep violet afghan that some woman from the market made for her, laid folded across the back of the sofa. Their small television played softly in front of it, one of her realty shows hi-lighting another couple who could scarcely afford the vacation home they chose. Though he supposed it wasn’t just _her_ show any longer, when they watched it together he took pleasure in pointing out the flaws in their shortcut construction, just as much as she like to critique their design and decor.

There was a photo of her friend from work on the refrigerator, on a swing set with her daughter, and another of Yennefer and her sister when they were girls. It had arrived in her package from Philippa, and Geralt had been reassured that the woman wouldn’t show up on their doorstep and ruin the healing progress Yennefer had made.

The cranberry red sweater Yennefer wore as she worked at the counter clung to her curves, and forced him to take notice that the time away from Juneau had filled out her frame, and cured the ghostly pallor of her skin. He’d noticed plenty, in their bed at night, when he walked up the front stairs behind her, but the sweater fit her _well_.

“Can I help?” He pulled a bottle of beer from the refrigerator as she washed the lettuce for their salad.

She looked up, her eyes bright and her curls bouncing from the high pony she wrangled them into. “Sure, can you get the dryer and put the towels in?"

He tipped the neck of his beer in acknowledgement and went to fulfill her request. The wet clothes were a load of whites, his undershirts and her clothes. Little white socks that came just below her ankle, shirts that draped and dipped subtly over her breasts, and a mesh bag full of underthings. He loaded the dirty towels and poured what he hoped was an appropriate amount of detergent and color safe bleach.

He took her wet clothes to the small drying rack in the bedroom and laid her items across it. He moved clinically, feeling like he was intruding on her privacy when he handled her petite bras and soft panties quickly.

He no more than emptied the bag and she appeared in the doorway, “Dinner’s ready.”

They sat on the sofa to eat, she was committed to watching the couple make a terrible decision and wanted to see the ending. “Tomorrow I’ll change the oil in your car, what time do you work?” He asked between mouthfuls. 

“Thank you,” she replied, “six.”

He nodded and continued cleaning his plate of her chicken parmesan, when she suddenly set her plate down on the end table and turned to him.

“Geralt,” she started, and his stomach dropped. She was upset about her lingerie, or worse, she wanted to go back to Juneau. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you today.”

He swallowed the mouthful that he’d been chewing, confused.

“At the mill. I should have just let it go, but it’s such a long day to be hungry.” He didn’t say anything about her visit there when he got home, and she wondered if her errand had been a mistake.

“You’re apologizing for cooking an amazing meal, packing it with care, and delivering it personally when I stupidly forgot it?” Another thought occurred to him. “Why would I _ever_ be embarrassed of you?”

She looked down at her knees, and tugged the cuffs of her sweater past her wrists. Geralt put down his own plate and took her hand, turning on the cushion to take the other as well. He traced her wrist with his thumb, and brought the other to his lips. Her scars healed well, and they were only really visible if you knew what you were looking for.

He placed a gentle kiss to the beating pulse in her wrist. “You’re fighting Yen. They’re battle scars, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You haven't done anything for either of us to be embarrassed about.” She cupped his cheek, running her palm over his beard. He’d let her trim it neatly, and it really did suit him.

“I should have taken you there, and introduced you to the other guys as soon as they complimented your food. That’s on me.” He took a heavy breath, and she watched the buttons of his shirt pull taunt, a miracle the thin thread held them at all. She wasn’t the only one who’d filled out in their mountain hideaway. Hard work and her cooking had put muscle where he’d never worn it before.

“You need some new shirts.” She was trying to lighten the mood, satisfied with his answer.

“You don’t want to go back, do you?” He had to make sure.

“No.” Her answer was firm. “Are you kicking me out?”

“God, no.” He let go of her wrists only to pull her into his arms. She squeezed her hands around his broad back, leaning into his chest. Warm, strong hands held her sides, and she closed her eyes. Geralt pulled back only far enough to feather a kiss to her cheek, and she squeezed her lips tighter, savoring the return of her daily, morning gesture.

He raised his hand to hold her head, his thumb dancing over one of the little pearl earrings he bought her back in Juneau. He trailed his lips slowly toward hers, giving her plenty of time to pull away. Instead she tipped her chin closer, and when he finally covered her lips with his, the rest of the world fell away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: A few of the Targets near me have Starbucks in them :D. The Canada border thing, I know, but I needed a miracle. Valhalla, British Columbia is a real place, just not the place I made it, necessarily lol.  
> Yes, I’ve literally made him a lumberjack. Apparently, I can’t help myself.  
> I know Yen is playing very domestic here right now, but it’s going with what she knows until she finds what she wants to do, as opposed to indentured servitude. (promise!)  
> One more chapter of this and that’s all she wrote! :D
> 
> A heartfelt thank you to Neeyla for kindly helping me edit, and for being a wonderful, encouraging person! Check out her awesome story, Pyres of Kaer Morhen, a Lambert writing challenge thriller! :D  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/27496924/chapters/67236349


	16. Juneau, Alaska - The Asylum V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Rated E. Solid E.

Yennefer’s heart beat wildly below her breast and excitement thrummed in her veins as they traded soft kisses, his short beard tickling her tender skin. Their dinners long forgotten, his satisfied hum rattled in his chest as her hand crept up the soft fabric of his shirt and across his neck. She buried her fingers in his thick hair, their legs pressed together on the sofa.

Swept up in the moment, her tongue snuck out to brush across his lips and he parted, his tongue greeting hers. Her palm crept up upward along his back, the warm muscle underneath suddenly more familiar to her than it was in their bed at night.

Geralt’s mouth slanted over hers, and all at once he realized their embrace had become hungry. He was desperate for her in that moment, and a wave of uncertainly washed over him. Was he taking advantage of her? The seam of his jeans began to dig painfully into his runaway erection. He pulled his lips from hers slowly, and she caught her breath.

Was it wrong of him, a violation of her trust? If she came to regret taking their relationship to another level, it would set back all the progress she’d made. Geralt steeled himself, clenching his jaw. Her health came before his selfish lust.

“Your dinner will be cold.” His voice was gruff with suppressed want. Dark lashes fluttered open in surprise, and her hand eased it’s grip in his hair.

“Right.” Her whisper seemed wistful, but she detangled her arms from his and returned her plate to her lap with a shuddered breath.

Damn if her sweater hadn’t tried to break him.

\------

-Two Weeks Later-

“Stay.” Yennefer held out her hand and backed slowly toward her car. She changed course when the beast continued to follow her. “Shoo!” She shooed the mangy looking dog back toward the store. He had turned up one afternoon when she arrived for her shift, and everyday since. She thought he was some kind of lab breed, his fur dark in color.

She was hoping he would find his way home, or his owner would come for him, but to no avail. The cart boys had taken to calling him Cockroach, because each day they thought he would disappear, he simply persevered. She’d given in and fed him a few times, and it broke her heart to see him alone in the cold.

“No!” The dog had jumped in her car. “I’m trying to go home, and you probably have fleas.” The dog tilted his head, but unsurprisingly, he didn’t climb down from the floor mat.

She held her hand out and the dog took a moment to sniff her, and proceeded to lick her from fingertip to wrist. “Fuck.” She muttered.

———

“I don’t want to hear it.” The dog whined pitifully as she scrubbed at his fur. “You insisted on coming home with me, and now you must pay the price.” He looked like a drowned rat in their tub when she rinsed the suds from his coat.

He was happy to hop back out of the evil water torture pit, and she scoured him with a towel before he could spray water all over the walls. Miraculously she didn’t find evidence of fleas, only caked on dirt. His nails weren’t overly long, and he’d certainly belonged to someone not too long ago.

“We’re not going to call you Cockroach any longer.” He toyed with the edge of the towel, tugging it from her hands. “How about Charlie? Yes, I think that’ll do. Be nice and let that go Charlie, it’s Geralt’s, and you best be good or he’ll boot your butt back outside.” He was a chocolate lab for sure, the rich brown of his fur handsome once it was clean.

He was sweet tempered, happy to follow her around the warm cabin. She’d fed him some left over chicken and rice, and he laid in front of the fireplace as though he’d lived there all his life. Yennefer snapped a picture and sent it to Essi, knowing she would be thrilled to see _Charlie_ clean and happy.

She responded to Essi’s excited text, and saw the dog’s head raise and his ears perk. She heard the door shut on Geralt’s truck from outside and he stood, trotting over to the front door cautiously. “Easy, he’s not a threat.” Her voice was soothing, but it didn’t stop the low growl that rumbled past his teeth.

Geralt’s heavy footfalls sounded on the porch, and the dog bared his teeth. The heavy wooden door swung open and he jumped between Yennefer and the intruder, growling nastily.

“That’s enough.” Geralt’s sharp tone surprised him. _Charlie_ barked once, and bent low, moving across the room to stay between them as Geralt came inside. Yennefer had texted him on the way home about her little mishap and her new friend, and it was a good thing she’d warned him.

“ _No_ , Charlie.” Yennefer’s voice was stern, but it was clear the dog didn’t care until the threat was neutralized. The lab was skinny, but his teeth would still tear flesh, regardless of the man’s size.

Geralt pulled off his boots and coat, and walked toward the fireplace, away from Yennefer. The dog followed hesitantly, but it was apparent he was relieved that the man wasn’t there to harm her. She gave Geralt a hunk of chicken to feed him, and after a little while Geralt rubbed his belly aggressively and Charlie’s tail thumped on the floor happily.

“I’m sorry about this, as soon as I can find him a good home, he’ll go. He’s never growled before just now.”

“Hmmm,” Geralt acknowledged. She finished making dinner and Geralt watched deep brown eyes follow her movements and hover underfoot. She brought their plates to the table and Geralt reached for her elbow, planting a brief kiss on her lips. More low growling explained the issue. “It’s you, you’re already his moon and stars.”

Yennefer opened her mouth to respond, but she couldn’t argue with this logic. It seemed he was right. They sat down to eat and she had a four-pawed shadow.

“You called him Charlie?” Geralt asked around a mouthful of alfredo.

Yennefer tsked, “The boys at work were calling him Cockroach.”

“Survival is a badge of honor.” He teased her, but there was a double meaning behind his words. “Isn’t that right, _Roach_.” The thick timbre of his voice roused the animal and he raised his head off his paws.

She tried both names and sighed. The poor thing would be named after a bug. It was worth it though, if Geralt cared enough to adjust his name, it boasted well for his tolerance of their furry friend.

“How did you win his loyalty?” Geralt was impressed.

A slow smile spread over her face. “The same way I won yours, I fed him.”

———

Yennefer fluffed the throw pillows on the sofa, hoping her friend would be comfortable coming for dinner. She was bringing her famous cheesy sweet potato bake, to be paired with Yennefer’s hot roast beef sandwiches and bacon brussels sprouts.

“How warm do you want it?” Geralt knelt by the fireplace and stoked the flames to her desired heat. A bit warmer than normal, to make sure little Gwen wasn’t chilly.

Yennefer was glad that Essi already knew about most of her past, and her unique situation. She and Geralt were good friends, and they shared a mutual respect that allowed them to live together in peace. She trusted him with her life, an easy choice considering he’d saved it in the first place. He swallowed the vitamin she left by his breakfast and she drove to work on the new snow tires he put on her car. Her warm meals filled his belly and he braved the cold to keep her warm and the fireplace crackling in the dead of night.

Occasionally he stopped to give her a kiss, but the rest of their relationship remained the same. Yennefer wasn’t sure of his feelings, but she wouldn’t press him. She valued him too much to risk overstepping and running him off. He simply meant too much to her. If he wasn’t interested in anything more, then she would have to accept it. She’d been working the late shift at the store in any event, so they had barely seen each other in the past week.

Essi’s car pulled up the drive, and Geralt went out to meet them, making sure the steps weren’t to slippery for small feet. Yennefer greeted them when they came inside, Roach taking an immediate liking to Gwen, and they played for a bit before the meal. The little girl wouldn’t touch the vegetable, but the excitement of a special dinner got her through the majority of the meal until she was excused to the couch to play with the little case of dolls she brought.

Geralt complimented them both on the food, and asked how things had been at the market.

Essi answered him, “It’s been so boring for me, I’ve been missing my partner in crime.” She winked at Yennefer. “Has it truly been worth it to be banished to the night shift?”

Geralt listened, intrigued, for Yennefer’s answer.

“It’s not so bad, but driving home in the middle of the night isn’t going to be fun in a few weeks when the snow hits.”

“How long will you work late?” Geralt asked. He didn’t understand why her shifts had suddenly changed, and he didn’t like hearing that she was apprehensive about the nights ahead. He thought the swap was temporary, and frankly, he missed her.

“Mommie? I have to go to the potty.” Gwen appeared near Essi’s chair.

“I’ll take you sweetie.” Yennefer held out her hand and she took it, her palm small and warm. The dog got up and followed them down the hall, and Geralt repeated his question.

Essi shrugged, “I think it’s indefinite. That asshole was pretty pissed, and really chewed out the manager.” Essi took another bite of her sandwich, and noticed the confusion on his face. “Oh, she didn’t tell you. There’s a customer that comes in, he’s always ballsy about touching the girls, speaking inappropriately. Yennefer wouldn’t take his shit from the beginning, and he’s had it out for her ever since.”

Geralt raised his napkin to his mouth to hide the snarl of anger he couldn’t stop. He leaned back in his chair, taking in the new information.

“Last week she told him to go to hell when he tugged on her apron. John’s solution was to simply put Yennefer on nights so that she’d miss his ritualistic visits.” She shook her head. “We’re all proud of her, and he should have been kicked out instead of punishing her.” Essi laid her fork on her empty plate. “I’m surprised she didn’t mention it to you.”

“When did you say he comes into the store?”

———

Yennefer gave Gwen a boost up to the sink to wash her hands, and let her play in the suds for a few extra moments. She didn’t understand how Essi’s husband had willingly walked out of their lives, and she hoped that her father’s disregard wouldn’t trouble her later in life. Yennefer knew all too well how lucky they were to have a healthy child, and what a blessing he’d walked away from. She could never do such a thing, and she knew without a doubt that Geralt couldn’t either.

A sharp burst of his deep laugher sounded down the hall, and Yennefer handed Gwen a towel to dry her hands. She wasn’t sure why he and his wife hadn’t had children, perhaps they’d decided not to. She didn’t have to see him with the little girl at her feet that night to know that he would be a devoted father. They would make a handsome family, he and Essi and Gwen, her missing a husband and father, and he his departed wife.

Other than Philippa, he meant more to her than anyone else, and Essi was rapidly becoming a dear friend. Roach nudged her thigh and she gave him an affectionate scratch behind his ears. Gwen finished drying carefully between each finger, and they returned to the main room where she descended yet again on her dolls.

Yennefer’s appetite had left her, and she settled down to play with a pretty, dark haired figurine. Geralt watched her from the table, and she flashed him a reassuring smile. Essi got up to clear the dishes, and he helped her by feeding them into the dishwasher. Essi laughed at the disorganized way he stacked them, her sing-song voice delicate and cheerful.

He mumbled an apology and she offered to teach him a better way, the soft clink of the flatware echoing in Yennefer’s ears. She threw her concentration into the toys at hand, and her doll suddenly became a sassy know-it-all. Gwen’s little laugh was just as bright as her mother’s, her personality just as sweet.

———

“You’re not going.” Geralt gruffed, scouring the cupboard for a specific can of soup.

It was the Sunday before Thanksgiving, and Yennefer had been called in for an extra shift at the market, the holiday prompting an excess of shoppers. She sat on the couch, head in her hands, her cheeks rosy with heat. “I’m fine.” Her voice was soft to accommodate for the pounding in her temple.

“So fine you might fall right over.” He found the chicken noodle, and rifled through the utensil drawer for the can opener.

“Don’t open that Geralt, I’m not hungry.” She stood, steadying herself against the arm of the couch. “It’s just a little cold, it’s been going around at work.”

“Fine. Prove it, take your temperature.”

“We don’t have a thermometer.” Every part of her ached as she made her way to the hooks by the door, fishing through their coats slowly for her apron.

He grunted and gave up on the soup, going instead for her purse.

“We need the money, it’s holiday pay, time and a half.” She slid her coat on, not bothering to lift her arms and free her curls from the collar.

“We don’t need the money that bad, you’re not going anywhere.” He slid her keys in his pocket.

“We do, we need to buy a thermometer.” She leaned across the counter to take the purse he’d abandoned, obvious to the fact that her car keys were missing.

“Alright, have a safe trip while you go for the thermometer. I’ll be here waiting for it in case someone else gets sick.”

She opened the door and visibly shook when the cold air hit her head on. She turned to close the door behind her, the “Bye, Roach” she uttered barely audible. Geralt watched out the window, letting her get about halfway across the porch before going after her.

He tipped her feet out from under her and carried her back inside, her protests eerily quiet as he stripped off her coat and the little flat shoes she thought she was going to wear out in the snow. “Why don’t you take a nap now, and you can go in later.” He guided her toward the bedroom, stopping only to grab her phone on the way.

“Just a quick nap, for my headache. Just a half hour.”

“Sounds fair.” He agreed, texting Essi that not only would she not make the extra shift, but that her boss would likely need to cover the next two days. She peeled off her jeans and climbed into bed, double checking that he let them know she’d be late.

Yennefer slept for eight hours, and he brought her warm ginger tea when she woke. He held the mug for her as she sipped it, her eyes still tired and her body lethargic. “Geralt?”

“Mmm?” He tipped the warm liquid to her lips.

“I think I might be sick.”

He held back a few smart comments and agreed with her. He helped her into her pajamas, and texted his own boss that he wouldn’t be in either. Geralt pulled off his shirt and adjusted the band on his sweatpants, climbing in the bed on the other side of her.

He felt her forehead with his lips before pulling the blankets up higher on her chest. If she was still feverish in the morning, he _would_ have to go to the store for a thermometer. Confident she was settled, he slid back over to his side of the bed and turned out the light.

“Geralt?”

He reached for her hand under the blankets. “Hmm?”

“Do you think Essi is pretty?”

 _What in the hell brought that up?_ He didn’t think she would believe him if he lied. “Yes.” She was quiet. “You’re pretty too, Yen.”

“Goodnight Geralt.”

He wasn’t sure if she was satisfied with his answer, or if she was upset. When she didn’t let go of his hand, he supposed she understood well enough that it wasn’t Essi he thought about all day long at the mill. She was a lovely person, but she wasn’t _his_ person. Yennefer needed him for support and help getting on her feet, but the reality was, he needed _her_ more than she’d ever rightly know.

———

“I got your latest package Phil, thank you. For the gifts in it as well, I won’t open them until Christmas. Pinky swear.” Yennefer held up her pinky finger and wiggled it in front of her phone as it lay propped up on the table.

Philippa scrunched up her nose and scoffed. “Your pinky means nothing brat! You pinky swore you wouldn’t use my crimson crush lipstick back in high school, but lo and behold it ended up all over Istredd’s face somehow.” Philippa smirked, shaking her head at the memory.

Yennefer’s smile sobered some at the thought of him, but it was the way he wronged her far beyond high school that left a bitter taste in her mouth. Philippa realized her mistake in bringing him up too late, but the door opened and Yennefer was distracted, the spark returning to her eyes.

“Yen,” a deep voice Philippa didn’t recognize came over the phone, “do we have any “C” batteries, my flashlight kicked the bucket.”

Philippa watched her turn and receive his kiss comfortably, before responding. “Third drawer with the duct tape and the screwdriver set.”

“Thanks.” He trialed his hand over her shoulder on his way to the drawer, and Philippa couldn’t help but be taken aback. She knew Yennefer cared about the man, but the emotion on her sister’s face when he walked in was indisputable. She loved him.

Geralt breezed back out the door and into the cold, not even realizing she was face-timing Philippa. Yennefer turned back to the call. “I’m sorry about your lipstick, can I buy you a new one for Christmas?”

“I don’t care about some old lipstick, I was just proving that you can’t be trusted not to unwrap at least one of the gifts early.” Philippa cleared her throat. “Speaking of wrapping, are you being careful? I just don’t know if it’s too soon, you know, in case?”

Blush covered Yennefer’s cheeks. “It’s not like that Phil. He’s not into me that way.” She shrugged. “I have a friend here, the one I told you about, and I think they’d make a good pair.” The sheepish smile on her face didn’t fool her sister for a second.

“Yenna, I’m sorry, but that’s stupid. I just saw the man’s tongue.”

“He’s attracted to her, he told me as much. He deserves to be happy, and so does she.” It was bitterly simple in Yennefer’s mind.

“Does that Emma woman even like him?”

“Her name is Essi,” Yennefer smiled at her miss, “and I assume so. I don’t see why she wouldn’t.”

If Philippa hadn’t already figured out her sister was a goner, her answer gave her away even more.

Yennefer shook off her prodding, and Philippa asked if she was doing anything special for her upcoming birthday. During her birthday the prior year, she thought she had everything she would ever want, a loving fiancé, a cozy home and a baby on the way. Birthdays were overrated.

———

“Close your eyes.” Her excited request overshadowed his grumble as he did what she asked.

“Yen, it’s not another dog is it?”

He was particularly cross as she led him into the bedroom blindly, his calloused hand in her smaller one. Yennefer had worked one of her last night shifts, and he and Roach had been left alone, resulting in a _poopie_ _incident_. He’d scrubbed the welcome mat clean before she got home, but she had to hold back her laughter at his dismay over the tale.

They crossed the threshold to the bedroom and she let go of his hand. “Alright, now you can look.”

Four boxes sat carefully on the edge of the bed, and she watched the realization occur on his face. The first was open, a new pair of heavy duty coveralls in an extra tall size inside. The next a new helmet and safety glasses, the third a set of handmade leather gloves, and the last a pair of top of the line steel toed boots.

“What is all this?” He pulled out the gloves and ran his fingers over the thick leather.

“They’re for you, since you won’t let me pay you back for _everything_ else.”

“Too much.” She could tell he wanted to try on the boots, but he hesitated.

She tried to reason with him. “I can return it all, and then we’ll end up buying it all over again. You need these things, that old equipment you’re using isn’t safe.” He grunted. “What would I do if something happened to you?”

“The cabin’s paid for.” He reminded her, not wanting her to worry.

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.” She rested her cheek on his shoulder blade, slender arms wrapping around his waist. Even if she lost him to her friend, she wouldn’t _lose_ him. Geralt leaned back and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his chest and bringing the crown of her head to his lips.

———

“She’s not ready, she’s not ready, she’s not…” he paced the length of the barn, cursing himself and his mantra. Roach watched him stomp along the concrete floor curiously, his fur healthy and shiny since he’d come to stay with them. Neither he, nor Yennefer had bothered to keep up the pretense that they would try and find him another home. He was a lost boy, and they wouldn’t forget the time when they too, were lost.

“Can you believe this?” The dog perked his ears, knowing Geralt was speaking to him, but unfamiliar with his words and frustrated tone. “The woman comes out of the bathroom in a towel, and I’ve got a goddamn hard-on that rivals any teenage boy.” He was disgusted with his lack of control.

Geralt paced to the end of the barn, threw open the door, and walked out into the fresh snow that had fallen the night before. He bent to pick up a handful of the frozen water and packed it against the heated skin of his neck. It pulled his concentration like he sought, and soaked into the fur lining of the winter hat he wore. Yennefer’s parka was trimmed in fur, and his mind threw him into an unbidden image of her in fur trimmed lingerie. He threw the handful of snow back to the ground with a curse.

———

Essi made eye contact with Yennefer from her register, giving her a nod. It was their universal signal, all the checkout girls used it when Grabby Gus was in the store. They all knew what happened if you gave his shit right back to him, and Yennefer had paid the price, her sentence lonely nights in the store with barely any customers to distract her.

Just as they predicted, he chose Yennefer’s line and wasted no time boasting about his complaint. “Haven’t seen you in a while Demi, did you take a vacation?” He called her _Demi_ Lovato, poking fun at her dark hair and pale complexion, and he knew full well she’d been forced into working nights to avoid him.

“I had a restful time, thank you for asking.” She managed a sincere looking smile, running his items past the scanner one by one.

He grabbed her hand when the machine beeped on a can of mixed nuts. She wanted to rip her hand from his and crack the can over the top of his head. “There’s a coupon on that, you missed it.”

Yennefer apologized through grated teeth, and applied his discount. She was grateful when he paid and left, reassured that she had fallen back in line with his moods and foul behavior like the rest of the employees. What she didn’t notice was a tall man in a pair of heavy work boots who followed him out of the store.

———

Geralt slipped out the automatic doors behind him, eyes narrowed and a scowl on his face. He followed the man to his beat up station wagon and cringed. It seemed he treated his possessions with the same amount of respect he held for other people.

The man loaded his bags into the back seat of the car haphazardly, bags Yennefer had carefully packed under his overcritical eye. When he turned around he found himself trapped between two thick arms that were braced on the doorframe. He shrunk back against the car in fear, Geralt’s anger easily discerned in his tense scowl.

“Don’t touch the women in there ever again, do you hear me?” Geralt’s voice was low and grating, but there was no way the man didn’t feel each word in his bones.

“Who says I touched anyone?” The man could barely stop cowering. “There are people around you know, people are watching you.”

“Anyone who thinks you don’t deserve to have your face rearranged?” Geralt made a show of looking around their perimeter, but not a soul stopped to look concerned about him. “You won’t say a word, you’ll simply use some manners from now on.”

The man looked like he wanted to bitch and moan, but wisely stayed quiet. Geralt pushed off of the car, turned, and began walking away. “I’ll be watching.” His threat was vague, but hit it’s intended mark, the man bustling into his car and locking the doors.

———

Geralt winced when the door slammed. He sat on the sofa, Roach asleep on his leg when she bustled inside. The dog jumped up and greeted her, her chin scratch for him unusually brief. She laid a small bag of groceries on the counter and pulled the refrigerator door open, glass jars clanging with the harsh movement.

“Everything alright?” He asked, turning down the volume on the news. He waited for her to tell him how that degenerate had touched her.

She didn’t reply, swearing to herself as she tried to make room on the shelves for the produce in her bag. He crossed the room quietly and touched his fingertips to her hip as she bent to dig through a drawer. One of the cart boys had come in and told them about what he’d seen in the parking lot. She straightened at his touch, whirling to face him.

“How could you Geralt?”

Surprise fired across Geralt’s features. Did she know he was at the market?

“Explain.” He furrowed his brow.

“No Geralt, _you_ explain!” The door closed on the refrigerator with a thud. “What were you thinking? You just might have gotten me fired!”

His mouth curled in displeasure. She thought she had to take that shit, just to keep her job. “No one touches you.”

Her jaw dropped. “So what are you going to do, just threaten every handsy asshole that comes near me?” She turned and pulled a carton of eggs from the bag. “I can handle myself. I need that job, I can’t have a bad reference if I want to find something better.”

She’d handled herself just fine until her manager reminded her that the customer was always right. The asshole had written a complaint to the store’s corporate headquarters about her _rude_ attitude, and God knew what he’d do now that Geralt actually threatened him. She was playing the long game, hoping for a good reference so she could find something else in town altogether.

She thought he’d stepped over the line, but in Geralt’s opinion, he’d held back. Geralt’s fist hadn’t cracked into the man’s face, and he hadn’t howled and cried for his mother as Geralt dragged him off the floor to continue beating some manners into him. He hadn’t done any of that, and she still wanted him to back off.

“Fine, it wasn’t for you then.” His voice was rough and grumpy. “It was for Essi and the rest of the women in that store. She told me the shit he’s been pulling on them over the years.”

The fight went out of her almost immediately, and she plucked more produce from the bag. “Alright. Just please don’t do it again.”

He should have been happy that she wasn’t mad any longer, but he didn’t like her quiet demeanor either.

———

Yennefer hadn’t had a job interview, a proper one, in ages. She got a job offer as a secretary back in Juneau years ago, but Istredd quickly shut that down. It was a shame, because it would’ve really helped her prove that she could handle being a legal assistant.

She moved through the ladies apparel section in the department store, looking for a decent pair of slacks and a blazer. The job was for a small town lawyer, and his assistant had just retired. She made sure the blouse she took to the fitting room was cut high on her chest. She closed the door to the little room and hung her selections on the hook.

She took a glance in the mirror and frowned. She needed a haircut, her curls reached down to the small of her back. She wondered if he would ask her to leave, if she got the job. He hadn’t given her one of their little kisses since their fight. The blouse hung nicely, but the first blazer was too boxy, it’s shoulder pads ridiculous on her small frame. Should she begin looking for an apartment in town? She couldn’t live off of him forever, and he had his own life to live.

The next blazer was fine, a flattering fit even. She found a pair of slacks she wouldn’t have to hem, and brought her purchases to the register. She was excited about the possibility that she might never have to don her supermarket apron again, but on the other hand, she wasn’t sure if she was ready for such a drastic change as leaving.

Yennefer smiled politely and handed the woman her money, her mind miles away. She loved him, and each and every day she spent with him made it worse. The longer she stayed, the more painful it would be when she had to go.

“Your eyes are beautiful honey.” The woman handed Yennefer her change, her compliment simultaneous. Yennefer awkwardly gave her thanks and found a compliment to return.

———

Geralt took a deep breath, gathered his courage and stepped out of his truck. The tickets in his coat pocket made him nervous, and he was irritated at himself for wavering. He’d been wanting to do something nice for her, and when he saw that a famous pianist was performing in nearby Edmonton, he ordered a pair of seats right away.

Since then things between them had been strained, and he had the feeling Yennefer might be ready to leave. It had been his hope that she would heal and be ready to take on the world again, but now that it had happened, he loathed to lose her. He walked up the wooden stairs to the porch, his steps dragging and a sense of dread taking over his gut.

He never should have assumed she would want to go with him, and he should’ve given the other ticket to Essi. Geralt hoped she wouldn’t throw them right back in his face and claim he was just trying to replace Renfri and her passion for the piano. Yennefer had taken to the music strongly back in the hospital, but perhaps the concert would only bring her back to that awful place in her mind.

He’d fucked something up along the way and it had made her distant. Renfri would be shaking her head at him and his stubborn confusion. He considered simply throwing the tickets away, but he’d already given the money to the boutique owner. Geralt had asked Essi for ideas, and she’d suggested that he call the local dress shop and put funds on account for her. She had been sure that Yennefer would be thrilled, but Geralt was no longer convinced. She’d been drifting from him, and he was desperate not to force her away faster.

Roach greeted him at the door with a thumping tail, but Yennefer was nowhere to be found. He took off his boots and coat, and found her folded over the edge of the tub, scrubbing for all she was worth. Guilt hit him, he took as many showers in it as she did.

“Can I finish that up for you?”

“Oh!” Yennefer jumped and slammed her elbow into the side of the tub. She rubbed it quickly, “I didn’t hear you come in. You were late, so I decided to get this done.”

Her elbow sounded painful, and he marveled at his ability to bungle up even the slightest thing as of late. He’d driven into town to get the tickets from the post office box, and he should have told her he’d be late.

“I should have texted you I’d be late. Why don’t you get some ice for that, and I’ll finish this.”

She reluctantly agreed, and he’d barely begun scrubbing when he heard her in the kitchen getting their dinner. He shook his head, she never took enough time for her herself to rest. She would have to accept his offer of a nice night out, or he’d strap her to the couch and force her to take a break.

———

After dinner Geralt plunged his hands into the warm, soapy water before she had the chance, so she took the drying towel. Her hands were turning pink in the dry heat of winter, the fireplace hosting a busy flame.

“There’s something for you, in my coat pocket.” Surprise crossed her features but she went to fetch what he asked anyway.

“Oh!” He turned from the baking pan he scrubbed, and watched her thrill turn to disappointment. “I can’t go, I work on Saturday night.”

She held the tickets gingerly, knowing they were likely expensive. It was such a shame that she worked, but she certainly didn’t have a thing to wear, regardless.

“You don’t have to work. I paid for Essi’s babysitter.” He scoured at a particularly baked on portion of the pan. “And before you say you don’t have a dress because you spent all your money on that stuff for me, you do. There’s money on account for you at the boutique on Fifth and Main, get whatever you want.”

He turned and she was right behind him. “Geralt, why?”

“You deserve much better than some fancy dinner and a concert. You’ve worked so hard since the moment we got here, and you’ve come so far.” Her chin brushed the back of his shirt, and her slippers appeared between his feet. She leaned against him, and Geralt dried his hands. “You should be proud of yourself Yennefer, I am, and I know your little boy is.”

Her fingers fisted in the sides of his soft shirt, and tears gathered in her eyes. They talked about Renfri on and off, and Yennefer was genuinely sad that she never got to meet her. She didn’t bring up the baby much at all, but she thought of him every day. Geralt reached around his back and held her when she laid her cheek on his shoulder blade. “Thank you.” Her words were soft and gracious, and he knew he’d finally done something right when he heard them.

———

He didn’t have anything to say when she left the bedroom in her new dress, but golden irises followed her everywhere she went. The boutique owner had been a lovely woman who patiently waited and assisted Yennefer in trying on at least a dozen dresses. When she came around the curtain in the shimmering black number, they both knew she’d found the one.

The A-line gown was spun from midnight black tulle, and beaded around the bodice as it clung to her curves. The dress was sleeveless and came with a matching satin shawl, a narrow belt of crystals and beads resting snugly at her waist. Her curls were pinned high on her head in tidy swirls, the simple pearl earrings in her ears.

Geralt adjusted his tie, uncomfortable in the only sport coat he owned. He’d trimmed his beard tight and tied up his hair in an efficient bun behind his ears. Still he would draw attention wherever he went, but that night it would be Yennefer who would hold their stares. She was ravishing, absolutely gorgeous, and she took his breath away.

“Do you like the dress?” She felt unsure having to prod him, but she would only get to hear his answer once.

“Yes, it looks nice on you.” _You look like royalty, and I want to rip it to shreds and cover you with my tongue instead._

She grabbed the little black purse she borrowed from Essi and tightened her shawl. He wasn’t one to wax poetic about trivial things, and she reminded herself that the store owner had been overwhelmed by her in the dress, and Essi had about died when she sent her the picture.

“I’ll get the truck warmed up,” he offered, slinging on his coat and walking out into the windy evening. His phone vibrated on the counter, and she peeked to see if it was important. Essi’s name flashed across the screen, and she flung the phone back down before she could read, **_‘_** _Isn’t her dress stunning? Have fun you two!’_

Geralt came back inside a few minutes later, shaking snowflakes off of his coat. “Ready to go?” He held her parka open and she slid her arms into the warm fabric. She nodded her agreement and handed him his phone, looking away when he checked the new message.

———

“So close, are you sure these are our seats?” Yennefer pulled her wrap tight around her shoulders and looked around behind them at the people who hadn’t spent as much on their tickets as Geralt had.

It had been simple for him, she deserved the best. He tucked their coat check tickets in his pocket and sat down next to her, even the pricier seating too narrow for his long legs. She could tell right away that he was uncomfortable, and flipped the armrest between them so he could spread onto her cushion. The lights in the concert hall flashed, and his knees rejoiced with the additional space.

The warmth of her leg, even though layers of tulle, was a welcome comfort in the large venue. He’d never been a fan of crowds, and there were plenty of people still filing down the isle ways. She took his hand, and laid her head against his shoulder. “Thank you Geralt. For the wonderful dinner, and the dress, and all of it. I don’t think anyone’s ever done something so nice for me before.”

It pissed him off that her fiancé had been a selfish prick, and every little detail he learned made him glad she would never have to run into him again. “It wasn’t much, hell, your cooking is better than that restaurant.”

“It is not, you’re bias because you’re always starving.” He tipped his chin and pressed a kiss to the intricate pattern of pins in her hair. Another couple came and sat next to them, and Yennefer straightened in her seat when the lights finally dimmed.

The excitement over the evening had almost let her forget about Essi, and what it might mean for her if they began dating. She pushed her thoughts and the sour feeling they brought with them away as the pianist took the stage to a round of applause.

She recognized quite a few of the classical pieces and arrangements as the melodies flowed from the grand piano on stage, sometimes joined by a violinist or string quartet. The pianist was incredibly skilled, and shortly before the end of the show, the first chords of her Moonlight Sonata began to seep into her skin like he’d come down from the stage and touched her.

Geralt hand loosened from it’s home around hers and he mimicked his portion of the notes on her leg. His fingertips found the imaginary keys and she watched his face, her mind flashing her back to the pale skin and hollow cheeks of the man she met in a mental ward. She had been _below_ rock bottom, and through his own suffering he found the courage to help pull her up and out. Using sheer will and determination, he protected her and displayed kindness in a place normally barren of such mercies.

His face had filled out, his strong features having taken on a much more natural hue, but he was still the same tortured soul who risked his own for hers. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, knowing she’d lost everything to find him, and she might be forced to give him up as well.

The song came to a close, and his rhythmic pattern on her leg slowed to a crawl. “Yen?” His whisper held his worry, and he brought his thumb to dash at the single tear that escaped her control. She leaned across her seat and brushed her lips over his, memorizing the moment as best she could.

“Are you alright, do you want to go?” He returned her kiss with equal passion, but he feared her song had been too much.

“No,” she slipped her hand back in his as the rest of the audience clapped wildly, “I don’t ever want to go.”

———

City lights flashed into the cab of the truck and reflected off the beading on her dress. The snow had been coming down steadily all night, and it was making the roads slick. She had every confidence in his driving skill, but she had to get her worries out in the open, or she feared she would cry. Their night had been so nice, and she couldn’t enjoy the memory of it the same way, if it was a farewell gift.

“Geralt, can you please stop in the parking lot of that hotel for a moment?” She pointed to a Best Western just off the road up ahead.

“We’ll make it home.” He offered, but steered them into the lot regardless.

“I just need to ask you this.” She squeezed one of her hands in the other nervously and without thinking. “Did you…buy those tickets and the lovely dinner, and the dress, because you’re kicking me out? A sort of goodbye gift?”

“What?” He was shocked, and couldn’t come up with a better response. After a few moments, he pulled himself together. “No, not at all - why would you think that?”

“Well I’ll be starting the new job soon, and I’ll make enough to pay for an apartment on my own. You could have your cabin to yourself, as you first intended.”

He resisted the urge to smack his head against the steering wheel. A couple walked past them through the snow, a baby carrier securely tucked under the man’s arm. “Do you want to go? To get your own place?”

“No, I’ve grown so accustomed to having you around, I think I would be terribly lonely.” She fiddled with the clasp on Essi’s purse. “I was shocked when you asked me, I’d been getting hints that you were interested in Essi. If that’s the case, I’m so happy for you.” She rushed out the last sentence before her heart jumped into her throat and she waited for him to confirm her fears.

“Yen.” He reached into her lap and took her hand in his. “You don’t think I’d spend all my time at home with you, if I was interested in another woman, do you?”

“We’re just roommates, and maybe you’re shy with her. I couldn’t be upset if you moved on with your life and pursue what, and who, makes you happy.” She knew she would sound jealous and petty, but she couldn’t just stew and dwell on what she saw. “I accidentally saw her name come up on your phone.”

He sighed, wondering how long she’d been worried about this. “Essi is a wonderful person, and a good friend. She helped me arrange the dress shop for you, and was just texting to see my reaction to your dress.” He pulled out his phone, queued up her message and showed it to her. Essi’s well wishes glowed in the shadows of the parking lot, along with the response he’d sent her. ‘ _The dress is perfect, she is a goddess. Thanks for your help.’_

She squeezed his hand when she read his words, vowing never again to jump so quickly to a conclusion.

“Roommates Yen? We haven’t been roommates since we left Juneau.” His thumb trailed over her knuckles.

“No, I suppose we’re not.” She met his gaze and saw the promise in his expression. “We’re something more.”

———

Geralt sighed in relief when they made it home safely. He no more than put the truck in park and unbuckled his seatbelt when she asked, “Wait, Geralt?” She looked small under the thick plumes of her parka. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

He grunted, “You know that I don’t.”

“Do you find me attractive?” She stared at the glowing dial on the radio as though it would protect her from his answer. “Do you...want me?”

His voice sounded the slightest bit strangled under his answer. “So much.”

She inhaled slowly, her surprise audible. “Is it Ren-“

Geralt leaned over the armrest and sealed his lips over hers. Her fingertips pulled through his short beard and he tilted his chin into her hand when they parted. “It’s not her, it’s me. You’re healing, and you don’t need me pushing you, rushing things.”

“Were you going to wait until I was ninety to tell me?” Relief prompted her soft smile.

“If that’s how long it takes.”

———

Geralt set a crackling fire before taking Roach outside, and Yennefer took one last look at her appearance, a few of her curls daring to escape their pins. She slipped out of her dress, hanging it carefully and folding the wrap over the hanger. The garment already had so many wonderful memories woven into the fabric, that she wished to treasure it for a long time.

Yennefer felt a shiver roll through her shoulders when he came back inside, talking to the dog as he went. The cabin was small enough that she could hear him filling Roach’s toy with peanut butter, and agreeing with imaginary words that proclaimed the melting snow from Geralt’s boots a more refreshing snack than the filtered water in his bowl.

She shook her head, peeling off the stockings she’d warn for warmth. She was lucky that he’d taken so well to the dog. She was lucky for a lot of reasons.

When Geralt entered the bedroom, he took a moment to appreciate the elegant gown hanging from the door, and another, much longer moment to appreciate the curve of her bare back as she sat on the bed and removed her earrings. The only stitch on her body was the delicate line of her panties, her pale skin glowing in the firelight.

He crossed the room before either of them realized it, his hand hovering just above her shoulder. She leaned back into his touch and Geralt let his fingertips slide into her hair. He sat down behind her and pulled out her pins one by one, the swell of her breasts visible over her shoulder. He held his breath without realizing it, her rosy nipples pebbled in response to his tender ministrations, inky curls falling down her back with each.

She turned to him when he finished, her palms tracing from his knees up the top of his thighs. Geralt loosened his tie as she worked up the buttons of his shirt, her gaze flashing from the fabric to his. His tie fluttered to the floor and he took over the buttons on his collar. Soft hands slipped underneath the material, brushing across the heavy muscle that laid against her back almost every night.

“So handsome,” she whispered, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. He leaned forward and covered them with his. It wasn’t their first kiss, but it held more promise than any before.

Her breasts pressed to his chest when he drew her close, and she didn’t break their kiss when she shifted to straddle his leg. Her hands trailed along his ribs to grab at his broad back, the slacks doing a poor job of concealing his erection on her thigh.

He could feel the heat of her arousal as she began to move against him gently, the lightest pressure of his leg between hers catching her breath. He wrestled his shirt the rest of the way off, taking her face in both hands as she openly ground herself against his thigh. She reached up and ran her hands along shoulders made powerful by hard work and a long handled axe.

His knee jumped and she tipped her face into the hollow of his neck, her moan one he would hear in his dreams. His beard scraped against her cheek and he felt her tongue warm and wet on the hollow of his throat. She was breathing quickly, tickling his skin and dragging her nipples against his chest.

“Yen,” his voice quaked and betrayed her effect on him, “we can go slow.”

Yennefer shuddered and unwound their legs, standing between his and leaning forward to capture his upper lip between her teeth. He tilted toward her mouth, and her fingers worked his fly open. She released his lip only long enough to whisper, “pants off”. He took a slow breath and sat up enough to let the slacks slide down his legs, the dark spot she branded them with disappearing into the pile of fabric.

His boxers joined them and she knelt to roll down his black socks. She peppered kisses up the inside of his calf, and ran the tips of her nails over the sparse hair on his thick thighs. Her lips ghosted over the inside of his knee, and she couldn’t help but hold her breath when her eyes found his erection. He was impossibly hard, and she touched him gently.

She’d only slept with one man before him, and he was nothing like Geralt. He caught her chin in his rough palm, a stark contrast to the velvety soft skin under hers. She slid her fingers up the veins and ridges that unfurled along his shaft, his heavy girth a bit intimidating against a wall of solid abdominals.

Geralt leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, his breath hitching when she eased her thumb through a trail of precum that escaped from his sensitive tip. She broke their kiss with a smile, moving past the adoration in his eyes and nuzzling her cheek against the heat of his cock. Her tongue darted out to join her hands, one falling to cradle his balls.

He watched her move, the image of her between his legs and the sensations her reverent licks and suckles wrought pushing him closer to an already tenuous edge. She took him in her mouth and he couldn’t stop the pleasured sound that echoed from his chest.He piled her long curls into one hand and lost himself in the swirl of her tongue and the pull of her lips.

She took a bit more of him as she went, her small hands working in time, until he could tell she was trying not to gag. “Yen,” his voice almost failed him, so taken was he by her attention. She released him slowly, her quick breaths warm and tingly against the wet skin she left in her wake.

He trailed his fingers from her hair down her back, and helped her stand. He circled his hands from the front of her slim thighs around back, urging her close and dipping his face against her chest, the warm weight of her breast against his cheek. He gave a lick against her sternum, tilting his chin and filling his mouth with her breast.

His tongue swirled her pale pink nipple and she sighed, leaning closer while he molded and teased its twin. Her hands came to rest on his temples and she smoothed the heels of her palms over his face and into his thick hair. He switched sides, nibbling and pinching lightly, making her knees jerk against his legs. “Mmmm, that feels nice.” She broke the quiet spell in the room, and her words went straight to his aching cock.

He wouldn’t last long enough to make it worth her while going as they were, and his plans would have to wait until round two. He licked his way from her breast to her throat, her pulse beating wildly just under her pale skin. “Yennefer,” he used her full name, his question genuine, “we don’t have to go any farther if you don’t want to.”

She didn’t hesitate, her lids heavy with desire. “I want to, holding back has been agony.”

He clenched his jaw and swallowed thickly, her words stroking his ego. “How long?” Broad hands warmed her back.

“Since the first night, at the hotel when I drooled on you.” Her lip quirked up to smile, but she gave his hair a gentle tug and tipped his head so she could kiss him again.

He slammed his eyes shut and tightened his arms around her. He fought the urge to spend more time berating himself for days and weeks of yearning, there would be moments for kicking himself later. “Lay down,” he requested against her mouth, resisting the urge to roll her over and simply lose himself in her.

They untangled so she could do as he asked, and he rifled through his slacks for his wallet. He pulled out the crinkly wrapper and laid it up on the bed. The earrings weren’t the only thing he grabbed behind her back at the store in Juneau.

She laid on her back when he knelt on the bed, her legs folded but her body and her heart still vulnerable for him. Geralt looped his thumbs under the elastic of her panties and pulled them down her legs faster than he wanted to, but if the fates had any sympathy for him, there would be opportunities to take his time later.

He laid down on his side next to her, propping his head up on his arm and taking her hand in his. He brought her knuckles to his mouth and laid kisses across them. “You’re incredibly beautiful, do you know that?”

Her apprehension began to fade, and the risk they took with their relationship slipped from the forefront of her mind. “I think you’re biased, but you’re not in the habit of saying things you don’t mean.”

He guided her hand under his to her breast, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “You don’t want to know how many times I had to leave the room you were in, just to relieve an inconvenient erection.” He nudged his hips to hers and again his cock relished in her soft, warm skin.

She smiled, tracing over his bicep as he moved her other hand down her belly. “I want to know, how many times? Two, three?”

“More times than I have fingers.” Said fingers ferried her hand between her legs and she opened for him, eager for his touch. Their joined hands found her soaking wet, tracing along her folds together.

“I may have had a similar affliction. One I handled right in this bed, with as many fingers as I could fit.” His mouth dropped to her neck and his ragged ‘ _Fuck’_ was hidden from no one. “Geralt,” she was getting impatient, her hips chasing their hands, “please.”

 _Please_. That goddamn word that got her nowhere with anyone except him. He let her hand go for a few moments, the sound of the condom wrapper and the chill when he leaned away combining to pull a shiver through her back. He returned warm and reassuring, his mouth on her shoulder, hand combing her curls from her face. _I_ _love you,_ the words in her head were meant for his ears but she dared not voice them.

Geralt eased her leg up and over his, the tip of his cock finding her entrance through her soaked folds easily. He pushed inside her as patiently as he could, her body giving way for his intrusion happily while his tongue mapped the recesses of her mouth. She was decadently tight, and he forced himself to move gradually, ready for any sign of discomfort. He began to rock against her, her happy little sigh morphing into a louder moan.

“ _Please_.” This time her request was less of an invitation, and more of a desperate prayer. Her hand wound together with his when he slid an arm under her head, careful not to pinch any of the soft, charcoal colored curls. He trailed his fingers down her midriff and thrust harder, his satisfied and breathless little grunts fueling the urgency pumping through in her veins.

Sure fingers found her clit and she grabbed at his arm, angling her hips back to meet his cock. “Oh, _oh_ ,” the volume of her voice was no longer under her control, and it only made him thrust deeper.

“ _Talk to me_ ,” he implored, when her lashes fell and she pressed her face into his arm. He laid kisses on her earlobe and in her hair, sweat beginning to bead on his brow and a hand busy between her open thighs.

“Mmmm,” she tried in vain to produce full sentences, her bottom teeth grazing his forearm softly. “So full,” another stuttered breath, “feels so good, ah, _faster_ …”

He jumped to fulfill her request, losing himself in the process. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and she reached back to clutch at his side. The sound of his skin colliding with hers filled her ears before it suddenly sounded far away. The building pressure low in her belly became the most important thing to her, twisting her shoulders in his arms and fusing their mouths together. Her hand slid across his jaw to bury in the damp white hair at the base of his scalp.

 _I love you_ , the words played in his head as her lips pulled from his and her jaw dropped. She went silent and he watched the dam break through wide violet eyes, sweaty foreheads pressed together as her frame began to tremble. Her body clamped tight around him and he groaned as the rhythmic pull of her muscles beckoned him deeper.

He pulled almost all the way out and thrust home, white light flashing over his vision for a moment as he snapped his hips against hers. Her legs quaked and curled as her climax carried on through gasping breaths and soft, pleading hums. His loud groan rumbled against her breast and he braced her tightly to him, her pleasure making his finish all the more satisfying.

Geralt kissed her languidly, rolling slow and shallow thrusts through the last of her spasms, his hand sliding back up the planes of her stomach. Her breaths returned to normal between kisses, fingertips dancing little circles on the warm skin of his back. Her nose nudged against his, “Why did we wait so long to do that?”

His bark of laugher was muffled by the blood rushing in her ears. He kissed his way down her neck and over her shoulder, before climbing off of the bed and ducking in the bathroom. She hadn’t moved an inch when he returned, and he knelt at the foot of the mattress, running his blunt teeth over the soft skin on the flare of her hip. “Alright?” Her hum of approval made him smile, before kissing the lightly pinked skin under the rough whiskers of his beard.

He moved her knee to the side, and feathered kisses and licks along the inside of her thigh. She sat up on her elbow and watched him leave her leg and hover between her legs. “Geralt, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” He stopped, his mouth an inch from her slit.

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” He slid his palm over her torso and took her hand.

“Some men don’t like it, I’ll be alright.” Istredd had gone down on her twice, and decided it wasn’t for him.

Geralt squeezed her hand, a slow, wolfish grin spreading across his face. “Oh, I like it.” _What the hell kind of double standard was she used to?_ He settled back down between her thighs and ran his thumbs through her swollen folds, her flesh rosy and slick.

His tongue parted them next, lapping up her enthusiastic response to him just moments before. Her sigh of pleasure ended in a heady moan as he mouthed her clit, the tips of his fingers playing coyly at her entrance. He began to lick her in earnest, sinking into her from nose to chin.

Her knees fell open and she wriggled back into the blankets. Her hand balled up the bedding and shoved it against her mouth to silence the little rhythmic whimpers as she hung on every sensation he carried her through. Her free hand found his soft hair, making short work of its tie as he paused to slide her legs onto his shoulders and change the angle of his tongue.

Two fingers curled in time with his mouth and she shuffled closer when he stroked something exquisite within her. “Please!” She propped herself up, too far lost to be bashful about her prone position.

 _I’m here, let go_. He worked faster and the muscles in her back began to tense, her spine feeling like a coiled rope. She shoved against him and then pulled away, and he pinned her searching hips to his face. There was no escape from his decadent torture, and her climax rolled up through her body like a strong ocean current. 

She bucked against his face and he hung on, pistoning his fingers and twisting his wrist as her squeal peaked and turned to a scream. She wouldn’t remember yanking so hard on his hair or squeezing her thighs over his ears, just the flood of pleasure that shook her shoulders and seized her fingers and toes. A beautiful numb filled her body, and left a slow, warm giddiness that she didn't know herself capable of. 

“Roach.” His deep voice brought her back to her body even as his hand still moved lazily. She hadn’t noticed the dog bound into the room, nor the source of the wet trails from her lashes to her dark hair. The dog left to return to his toy at Geralt’s tone and the elimination of the possible threat.

“Is he alright?” She licked at her dry lips and filled her lungs with air over and over.

“He’s fine.” His tone was reassuring as he crawled back up the bed to lay with her. She wanted to turn and face him, but she lacked the energy for even that. He wrapped himself around her back as though he might float away without her.

The heat radiating from him and the crackling of the fire brought her close to sleep without any of the bedding below. Many nights in their bed together couldn’t compare to this one, the feel of his skin and the taste of his kiss on her lips.

“Geralt?”

“Hmm?” His response was slow, he was falling too.

“Thank you for tonight. The dress, the concert. It was magical.”

“What concert?”

She smiled.

———

Somehow it was different being in the supermarket now that she no longer worked there. She’d given her notice, set to start at the law firm the next week. She was going to miss her friend like crazy, but she promised to visit often. Geralt walked behind her, carrying a basket in his hand full of her items. One of the cart boys darted through the isle, waving to her as he went.

She felt Geralt’s free hand on the back of her coat, and tucked her lip behind her teeth in a little smile. How they lived together so long without constantly touching each other, was a mystery. They walked past large displays of flour and sugar, and Yennefer stopped to look at the different cooking oils. Geralt wandered into the baking pans, and came back with a purple, silicone baking mold. She raised her brow at his selection.

“We need it, for muffins.” He shrugged.

“I haven’t made them in a while, have I?”

“We could make them together, with chocolate chips.” He shrugged as though she ought to have come to the same conclusion.

“They’ll be too sweet for you.” She put her oil in the basket next to the forms. “Geralt, little bears?”

“You like the chocolate ones, and Gwen will like the shapes.”

She leaned up and kissed his cheek, just above the line of his beard. “ _You’re_ the teddy bear.”

He grumped, but she knew it was all bluster. She left the forms in the basket, and went for a bag of chocolate chips.

Two hours later the chocolate chips were strewn across the countertop next to her favorite mixing bowl, and she had floured handprints on her thighs. The oven beeped and Yennefer moaned, neither one of them interested in the preheat cycle as he rocked her against the cupboards. The little batter filled teddies would have to wait, while her nails raked across his back and he mumbled nonsense into her curls.

———

“Is that her, the blonde?” Lambert struggled to see up the hill as the two women unpacked their car. Vesemir smirked, knowing Lambert was wrong.

Geralt’s _roommate_ and her friend had offered to bring the men at the mill a warm lunch a few days before Christmas. Geralt himself was halfway up the hill to help them carry a pair of heavy crockpots.

“Maybe you should go up there and help them Lambert.” Great puffs of fogged air left Vesemir’s lungs as he bent to finish the last few cuts before they took their break. The team of men was especially tired of trudging through the heavy snow between buildings, and a hearty meal would be worth it’s weight in gold.

Lambert grunted and grumbled at first, but soon realized he’d much rather speak to the pretty ladies than operate the planer on his own.Vesemir shook his head and watched him take off up the hill in Geralt’s tracks.

Yennefer was happy to finally put faces with names as the men approached she and Essi after the meal, their bellies full and their words gracious. It wasn’t that Geralt was overly chatty about his work, or anything really, but over the months she’d put together what turned out to be a pretty accurate picture of his coworkers.

She’d already met the foreman, Vesemir, and liked him right off. He filled in when Geralt had taken off to take care of her while she had the flu, and she could tell he ran the business as though the men were family. Lambert was easily identifiable, he’d approached Essi thinking she was Yennefer and was busy making an ass of himself.

“So if you ever get sick of dealing with that big oaf, you can give me a call.” He leaned over the table across from Essi.

She played along, knowing Yennefer sat next to her and struggled to keep her laughter at bay. “Aren’t you Geralt’s _friend_?” She questioned.

“We’re _friendly_ , but I don’t think he’d want me to miss an opportunity with fate.” He gave a little wink and slid his chair closer to hers. “You’re beautiful, you can do better than old man winter.”

Yenenfer noticed Geralt lean back from his seat at a table with the other men, and narrow his eyes at Lambert. She smiled and waved him off, Lambert’s shameless game one either of them could handle.

“Why should I listen to a word you say?” Essi was invested now. He would be wondering where he went wrong alone in his bed that night.

“Why not?” He beamed, thinking himself prince charming.

“I have a four year old daughter.” She took a sip of her coffee and waited for him to back off.

“Is she Geralt’s?” He was confused, the man had never mentioned having one.

“That’s rude of you. Geralt is not her father.” Essi rolled eyes heavenward.

Yennefer leaned back in her chair and blew Geralt a kiss. Lambert was the only one to see it, and he suddenly realized his mistake.

“Wait,” he backpedaled, “who are you?”

“You my call me, not interested.”

Yennefer hissed into her own cup of warm tea, enjoying the little burn that Lambert deserved.

———

“Now I’ll be home late, but it’ll only be for a week or so, until I’m familiar with things.” She reminded him not to worry later that night as she packed lunches for both of them. It was terribly early in the morning, but she’d been so nervous for her first day at the law office that she couldn’t sleep any later.

“What the hell kind of name is _Vilgefortz_ anyway? Is he Russian? Scandinavian?” Geralt crowded himself against her back while she worked, his hands sliding across her silk blouse. It was chilly in the room when all he wore was a pair of boxers, but the heat from her body drew him like a moth to a flame and warmed him from the outside in.

She smirked, just fitting a small container of jam in with his biscuits. “Just what kind of name is _Geralt_ , for that matter?” She was forgetting something, and damned if she could come up with it.

His breath was suddenly warm in her ear. “The kind of name you shout when you think you can’t take any more.” That got her attention, and she suddenly realized what was nestled against her backside.

“ _Oh_ ,” she closed her eyes and he shifted his hips against hers. “Not the blouse Geralt, don’t wrinkle it.”

“I won’t.” Her palms smacked against the table and he began unbuttoning her shirt, one rose gold bauble at a time. She pushed back against his erection and followed his hands up her midriff. He unbuttoned the last closure and gently pulled the blouse down her arms. He laid it over the back of one of the chairs carefully, and groaned out loud when she hiked up her skirt for him.

“You’ll freeze outside with your legs bare.” He couldn’t help but run his hands up the back of her thighs and give her derrière a firm squeeze. The creamy soft skin of her back seemed to glow in the low light, her curls falling just past her shoulder. At first he’d been dismayed when he saw that she cut her hair, but he soon realized that she loved it shorter, and therefore so did he. It was a feature of the _new_ Yennefer, who had relaxed back into who she really was.

Strong hands moved up her sides to pinch the clasp of her bra, and he pushed her panties aside while she pulled it down her arms. He kicked off his boxers quickly, folding his body over hers against the table, clinging to the luxury of his bare skin against hers. He kissed the nape of her neck, her silky hair a stark contrast to the rough salt and pepper hair on his face.

“I’ve got to get my wallet, don’t go anywhere.”

She let out a plaintive whine, but he was back before she could have unstrapped her heels. Geralt leaned her over the table again, their lunches all but forgotten as she searched for the table edge. She moaned when he entered her swiftly, his arm wrapped around her waist, hand covered in her slick as he traced a path around her clit. He was everywhere, and though she should feel overwhelmed and trapped, he completed her instead. In his arms she was truly safe, and she could finally let go.

Geralt began to rock her against the fixture with more intensity, and the glass jam jar she’d left open tipped over and began to leak out on the table. Seized by an impulse he hoped he wouldn’t regret, he let her go to spin her around and lift her up onto the table. He slid inside again quickly, her impending climax evident by the disappearance of the violet in her eyes and the way her knees clamped against his ribs.

He deliberately slowed his hips, and pulled his hand from between her legs. She turned her head to kiss the warm skin braced on the table next to her head, and then gasped when she saw him plunge two fingers into the jar of jam.

“Oh Geralt,” she lamented, “now I’ll have to buy a new -“

She trailed off, watching him paint bright red patterns over her breasts. He returned to the jar for more, before setting to licking her clean with a grin. He resumed his gentle thrusts, his clever tongue swirling and suckling across her skin. One hand pulled at his hip, and the other danced across his scalp and she leaned forward to feed him more of her sticky skin, no longer upset about the jar. She tugged on his arm, bringing his fingers to her mouth and licking them clean.

He hadn’t finished his snack when she began to pant, her warning half complete when she arched up off of the table. He abandoned her breast to thrust faster, her cries ringing in his ears. His own climax neared and he went after her clit again, silverware and containers rattling along on the table. “Again,” he beckoned, trying to prevent her from totally relaxing. “Come with me Yen.”

Yennefer watched the far off look take over his face and gloried in the fact that it was _she_ who put it there. She leaned up to give his neck a slow lick, the muscle and tendon under her tongue straining to hold back his release. It was when he lost the fight that she surrendered again, his wild and jerky movements matching the deep shout in her ear.

He braced his arms on either side of her, both of their chests heaving as they came down together, abandoned jam finding it’s way from her breast to the mat of hair on his chest.

“Geralt,” she smiled to herself as he laid kisses along her jaw, “you’ve got some jam in your hair.” There was a streak of the sugary red substance in his wild morning mane, and she knew they would both need to shower. It was a damn good thing she’d gotten up so early. “Was all that just thanks for the new muffins?”

She could feel his smile against her cheek.

———

Yennefer tied his shirt under her breasts, a mischievous smile on her face. The soft flannel felt heavenly on her bare skin, and the tips of her shorter hair caressed the collar lovingly. She brought the material to her nose and inhaled the smell of pine and man. She let the buttons lay open down her front, and slipped into a pair of his boxers that coincidentally matched the red and black plaid fabric.

She folded the waistband down a few times, and ran her fingers over the pearls in her ears. It was warm in the living room, the fire she built with the hefty pile of wood he’d stacked on the porch for her made her wish for his arms. She sat down on the couch, and Roach saw her grab for the furry blanket, eagerly making his way over to cuddle with her.

The warm glow from the fire was dotted with reflections from the Christmas lights on their tree. Decorating for the holidays was easier in the country, when all she did was walk out behind the cabin and select her desired fir. Geralt had chopped it down and hauled it inside without complaint, promptly disappearing to the bedroom and returning with a small wrapped box that he placed under it before they even strung the lights.

He was working an extra shift, even though it was Christmas Eve, so one of the other men could spend the day with his children. She had lasagna in the refrigerator waiting for him to come home, and she laid down to watch a Christmas special.

Geralt arrived home to find her asleep, and he grinned when he peeled back the blanket to find Roach laying against her chest. The smile fell from his face when the dog got up and he saw what she was wearing. She looked up at him with sleepy eyes, “Merry Christmas Eve,” was about all the greeting she was able to muster before Roach was ejected to his bed and Geralt set to investigating his own shirt.

An hour later it was _his_ gaze that was sleepy, his back damp and stuck to the leather cushion. Her chin rested on his chest as she combed her fingers through the soft hair that framed his face. “Yen?” He propped his arm behind his head, the other secure on her back.

“Mmmhmm,” she pressed a kiss to the warm skin below her, his chest hair tickling her nose.

“Are you happy?”

 _Happy_ was such a hard feeling to define for her. _Completely happy_ was something she might never attain. “I miss him.” She would never forget the perfect little face that had stared back at her through the hard walls of his isolette. “But, there’s no place on this earth that I’d rather be, than right here with you.” She could tell he understood, and she knew he felt pangs of loss himself from time to time. A piece of both of them would always be just outside their reach.

Her thumb traced the high arch of his cheek. “I think a part of my heart has been in here for a long time.” Her lips danced again on his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady. “I love you, Geralt.”

He leaned up and pressed his cheek to hers, his response just as honest. He could never forget what his wife had meant to him, he understood and he always would. He loved Yennefer, and the emotion had only grown each day since she put that first little muffin on his tray. But unlike their chance meeting, they were safe now, and he felt like he was finally home. _They_ , were home.

———

-Epilogue-

“Are you sure, absolutely positive, that she didn’t marry him solely for the baby’s sake?” Geralt flipped his phone so she could see it, a photo of Lambert and Essi on the rail of their cruise ship, sparkling cider in her hand and his tongue making a show of licking her cheek.

Yennefer smiled and stopped to give him a kiss on her way to bring Gwen her snack. “She loves him. I don’t know how he managed to pull it off, but she’s told me so on more than one occasion.”

“The courthouse wedding makes me suspicious.”

She returned to perch on his lap, Gwen busy with her puzzle book in front of her cartoons and essentially ignoring them. After two years, Geralt and Yennefer were now her official godparents, and she was staying with them while Essi and her new husband skirted away somewhere warmer for a brief honeymoon.

Yennefer leaned close and directed her words only for him. “I think the snarky flapping of his mouth extends to the bedroom as well, if you catch my drift.” Her lip brushed the shell of his ear, her breath warm on his neck.

Geralt wrinkled his face at the thought. “He is excited about the baby though, I thought I might have to bury him in pieces if not.”

She ran her hands through his hair, petting away his bluster. “He’s completely different with her and Gwen than he is with us. I promise, they’ll be alright. I would have already asked you to pound him if I didn’t believe it to be true.”

“Good.” He turned and tipped his mouth to hers, laying chaste kisses on the corners of her lips. “Gwen?” he called over the television, “what do six year olds like to do most?”

“Ummm," she thought carefully, "...ride ponies, go hiking, play on the playground, read stories, pet dogs, race on bikes, swim, and make forts.” She answered as though it was an obvious question, and he felt Yennefer’s smile against his temple.

“What if I said we could do _all_ of that, before your mom and stepdad came home?”

Her face lit up and the puzzle book slid from her lap to the carpet. “Yeah!” She cheered, and Roach lifted his head at the pitchy sound.

“Alright, we’re off to the playground before it gets dark.” Yennefer slid from his lap and heard their high five as she went to the kitchen. 

She filled a water bottle for Gwen, and Geralt helped her into a light jacket. As soon as the front door opened she shot across the porch, and Yennefer urged her to take the steps carefully. Geralt grabbed Yennefer’s hand quickly before she could start down the stairs. “I love you.”

She turned back to face him, affection clear in her violet eyes. “I love you, too.”

“Mmmm,” he looped his arm around her hip and pulled her close.

“Auntie Yennefer, Uncle Geralt, let’s go! We’ve got to get there first, before the other kids!” She stood by Geralt’s truck impatiently, waiting to be lifted up into her seat.

“Come along Geralt, you’ve made a promise to a little girl.”

“I keep my promises.”

She turned her forehead to his, her lashes falling shut before his lips found hers. “I know you do.” Her eyes opened again to smoldering gold before they followed after her hand in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I sent them to a piano concert, and yet this is the version of Moonlight that prompted it, *shrugs*. Moonlight Sonata (Epic Trailer Version), Hidden Citizens  
> And I named the dog Roach, more *shrugs*. I'm not telling what was, or wasn't in the box under the tree, you decide. All of the shrugs and none of the answers!  
> Thanks again to Miss Neeyla for helping edit! <3


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